


Emissary

by VincentMeoblinn



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Anal, Angst, Arranged Marriage, Barely Legal, Chases, Cuddling & Snuggling, Depression, Derek as Beast, Fairy Tale Retellings, Implied/Referenced Suicide, Knotting, Light BDSM, M/M, Mates, Mildly Dubious Consent, Minor Character Death, Oral Sex, Pining, Stiles Stilinski as Little Red Riding Hood, Stiles as Belle, Suicidal Thoughts, Werewolf Mates, take down
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-10-28
Updated: 2015-11-18
Packaged: 2018-04-28 15:09:25
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 15
Words: 34,118
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5095226
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/VincentMeoblinn/pseuds/VincentMeoblinn
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Derek believes that his mate has died until someone unexpected proves him wrong, but his future mate is unwilling and possibly suicidal. Once their connection is made Derek knows he will have a year to win Stiles over or die from his mate's rejection so he turns to Scott for help. When foolish plans fail to win Stiles over Derek turns to a books to help him seduce his mate and discovers that magic comes in many forms.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

_Your mate will be an emissary, my son. That is who you must look for. Someone who draws you in with their inherent magic and will protect our pack._

Derek woke up with a gasp, shifting in his bed until he managed to untangle himself from the blankets. His mother’s words to him when he’d connected with her beyond the grave had shaken him to his core. That was when Derek had panicked. Jennifer was dead now, and she was the only emissary he’d ever had an intimate attachment to. That meant his mate was dead. That meant that _he_ would die. Wolves who connected with their mates would die a year after their mates did. It was kismet. What really panicked Derek wasn’t his impending death, it was the fact that he had no one to miss him when he died. Cora and he were barely connected anymore. She hated him for being the last of her family. Peter was insane. His mate was dead. Derek had no one and nothing.

Derek rolled over and buried his face in his pillow, letting himself mourn his pathetic excuse for a life for the first time in years.

XXX

Derek stepped into Deaton’s waiting room and rang the bell, shifting uncomfortably until the man appeared. He squared his shoulders and tried to look confident as the strange man approached. Deaton made him feel safe. He trusted him. He was an emissary. Maybe _he_ was Derek’s mate, or could help him break Jennifer’s hold at the very least. Derek smiled softly at him and asked if he could speak to him in private. Deaton smiled warmly and brought him into the back where he was just sending a patient away. Scott gave Derek a tight-lipped smile as he passed him with the sick animal in his arms. Derek knew he hated their suffering.

Once they were alone Deaton turned to him with his doctor face on, “How can I help you, Derek?”

“You’re our pack’s emissary, aren’t you?” Derek asked.

“I’m not sure what you mean,” Deaton replied.

“Come on,” Derek huffed, “I’ve suspected it for ages. I’m just looking for confirmation here.”

“I’m not denying that I was your mother’s emissary, Derek,” Deaton sighed, leaning against a counter, “However, I’m not _your pack’s_ emissary. If anything, I might be becoming Scott’s emissary.”

“But you’re an emissary,” Derek replied, coming closer as his heart pounded in his chest, “And if I become part of Scott’s pack then you’ll be mine.”

Deaton’s eyebrows furrowed, “I’m not sure I’m comfortable with the way you say-“

Derek stepped closer into Deaton’s space, trying to make the sorts of faces that made women swoon for him. Deaton looked freaked out, but Derek pressed on, reaching up to cup his cheek and leaning forward to-

Derek flew backwards, through the door, across the half-door, and hit the wall of the waiting room. Deaton stepped out into the room and clicked the half-door shut, igniting the ash that kept werewolves out.

“Derek, if you _ever_ try to kiss me or hit on me again I’ll put you over my knee and spank you,” Deaton stated calmly, “And I don’t mean in a fun way, just so we’re clear.”

Derek pushed himself up, rubbing at the back of his head, and glared at Deaton, “My mother made you promise her something.”

“That wasn’t it,” Deaton replied sardonically.

“No, but she made you promise to protect me, right?”

“Something along those lines,” Deaton folded his arms.

“Well, my mate is supposed to be an emissary.”

“Not interested.”

“I have to find them,” Derek replied, “I _need_ a mate. I have no pack, I need to find my mate and join their pack.”

“Derek,” Deaton sighed, “As an emissary it’s my job to keep the balance, not just to protect one pack. I have to serve the interest of all. Me somehow… fixing you? It’s not possible. Whoever your mate is, it isn’t me. I’m sorry.”

Deaton turned and left while Derek picked himself miserably off the floor. A moment later the office door flew open again and Stiles staggered in with his father leaning heavily on his arm.

“DEATON!” Stiles shouted, “SCOTT! MY DAD’S HURT!”

Derek stepped forward to grab John’s arm and help Stiles drag him to the door while Deaton hurried forward and broke the mountain ash seal to allow them in. He gave Derek no indication he was going to speak about their interaction so Derek helped John up onto the table.

“Your fucking uncle nearly killed my dad!” Stiles shouted, shoving at Derek once he was ordered away by Deaton.

“Did he bite him?” Derek asked.

“No, he used his claws, but we both know _that_ doesn’t make a difference!”

“That’s rare,” Derek replied, “How badly is he hurt?”

“It’s deep, but it won’t be fatal,” Deaton replied, pulling out a needle and thread, “You could have gone to a hospital, John, but you’ll bleed out before you get there if I send you there now.”

“Yeah,” John wheezed, exhausted from the blood loss.

Derek growled in frustration and Stiles fought back tears while Scott and Deaton worked on his father. He had to deal with Peter. Now. Before he killed anyone else.

XXX

Derek walked into Scott’s bedroom, his face pale and drawn. He had blood all over his shirt, pants, and hands. His claws were out and flesh was caught beneath them. Scott shouted in surprise and stood up quickly at the sight of him.

“Whoa, man! Are you okay?” Scott asked in shock.

“I… I…” Derek sank down into a chair, eyes wide as he stared up at Scott.

“What happened? Derek? What happened to you? Are you _hurt_?”

Derek shook his head mutely, miserable as his heart ached, “I killed Peter.”

“You… what?”

“I killed Peter. I killed my uncle. I had to, I know I did, but…” Derek shook his head, unable to articulate his feelings.

“Yeah, that’s great,” Scott frowned, “I think? Are you okay? I mean… you’ve killed him before, right? So it’s cool. He was dangerous and-“

“He was the last family member I had left now Cora’s left,” Derek replied, staring up at Scott with wide eyes, “My only hope for a pack. You’ve never connected to me. We aren’t pack.”

“Sure you are,” Scott replied weakly, but they both knew it wasn’t true.

Derek stared down at his hands, not replying. Scott stood there awkwardly for a while and then turned to his constant source of information. Stiles.

“Dude, he’s in my room freaking out,” Derek heard him whispering into the phone.

“ _Yeah, so?”_ Stiles replied, _“Dude, his uncle hurt my dad yesterday! I’m glad the fucker’s dead!”_

“Yeah, but he’s not taking it well. He’s freaking out about not having a pack. He’s just sitting in my room staring at his blood and flesh covered claws.”

_“Ew, and may I just add, gross. Okay, so get him cleaned up and I’ll be over stat.”_

“What are you going to do?”

 _“Talk to him,”_ Stiles replied, _“Maybe take him for a walk or something.”_

“Stiles, I can do that,” Scott replied with a huff, “Maybe I should call Deaton.”

_“No, I think it had better be me. I know what he’s going through right now.”_

“How?” Scott asked in confusion.

There was a pause and then Stiles took a deep breath and leveled them with a shocking confession, _“Because I killed my mom while she was sick.”_

“You… Stiles, you know that’s not true,” Scott argued.

“ _I’ll be there in, like, ten minutes. Get him cleaned up. You know how I feel about blood and gore.”_

Stiles disconnected and Scott hurried over with a wet, soapy rag. He pushed Derek around until he got him cleaned up and made him change into one of Scott’s shirts. Derek then was directed to sit on the living room couch and wait for Stiles, who arrived shortly there after with a pressed smile on his lips and tugged Derek out the door.

“Come on, you big lug. I know you like to move around a lot. We’re taking a walk.”

Derek followed him, if only because it was better than sitting on Scott’s couch and contemplating the fact he was now _hoping_ for his death. He walked down the street with Stiles, who walked slower than Derek preferred to. At first they walked in silence and then Stiles broke it by clearing his throat loudly.

“So… no more uncle Pete. That’s both good and bad, right? I mean, he was unwell. He’s at peace now. Yadda yadda. You feel like shit, right?”

“Yeah,” Derek replied softly.

“It sucks, yeah? I mean, you know you did the right thing but you still have to live with it.”

“Not really,” Derek replied casually, and Stiles stopped flat, gripping his arm angrily.

“Dude, don’t go there. You start thinking how great the world would be without you and next thing you know, _we’re_ living without you. We don’t _want_ to live without you. You’ve grown on us. Like a fungus. A fungus among us. Except we don’t want to get rid of you with harsh chemicals that make your socks feel weird and- you know, maybe the fungus analogy wasn’t a good one. A wart… no… wait… hang on… I got this… _an old TV_. Yeah. You don’t just throw them out because you get a flat screen-”

“Is Scott the flat screen?” Derek asked with a frown.

“Um… okay, new analogy.”

“Forget the analogies,” Derek huffed, “I’m dying because my mate is dead.”

“Wait… what?” Stiles asked.

“Werewolves mate for life,” Derek told him, “Why do you think I was worried about Allison and Scott? Once a mate dies the other mated pair dies within a year. I was hoping someone else might be my mate, but I’m pretty sure now that I was right from the start. My mate’s dead and I’m dying. I just want to be happy _until_ that happens. I want a pack. I want to feel _safe_ again, Stiles. I haven’t felt safe for _years_.”

“That’s… awful,” Stiles frowned, “I mean… you deserve to feel safe and, ya know, cared for. So why not join Scott’s pack?”

“The alpha has to accept me,” Derek replied, “He doesn’t. He’s tried, but we just can’t connect. A pack is very personal and Scott doesn’t understand me or feel comfortable around me. He worries and he cares, but he doesn’t want me close. Pack are close.”

“Okay,” Stiles frowned, “Well, I want you close. I’ll be your pack.”

“You can’t just decide that,” Derek replied, “It doesn’t work that way, especially with humans. There’s an intimacy to having a human pack. Like how you and Scott are basically brothers.”

“So we get closer,” Stiles grinned.

“Then you mourn my death,” Derek frowned.

“Hey, you can’t have it both ways. Either you enjoy your last year-“

“Possibly less-“

“Year or less of life and leave people behind, or you go off and hermit yourself off until you waist away from emotional repression. Now, I’m _really_ good at emotional repression. I mean, it took me till now to admit I killed my mom, and no one would know I’m not a happy go-lucky guy, right? So-“

“I know.”

“What?”

“I know. When you smile you smell sad,” Derek stated, “When you laugh you smell desolate. You’re severely depressed and suicidal.”

Stiles’ smile melted off and he swallowed hard, then nodded, “Okay. So. Gloves off. Full disclosure. Good. Are you going to do something to speed up the process?”

“I don’t know,” Derek replied, “I thought about it. I could get a wolfbane bullet. It wouldn’t be hard. Maybe go looking for trouble and end it doing good.”

“Okay,” Stiles nodded, “Do you want me to help you?”

Derek stepped back in surprise, but Stiles’ relaxed expression didn’t change. He just waited. Derek considered the offer, truly considered it and what it would do to someone already wracked with guilt.

“No, but thank you,” Derek replied.

“Okay, so. Now that we’re past that, what _do_ you want to do?”

Derek turned with a sigh and continued to walk. They were nearing the park and soon Stiles sank onto a bench in relief. Derek paused and then joined him, sighing as he looked up at the stars on the sky. Stiles shivered and stuffed his hands into his pockets.

“Cold?” Derek asked.

“Yeah, a bit,” Stiles muttered.

Derek stripped off his jacket, shoved at Stiles’ head so he bent double, and draped it over him before shoving him back by his forehead.

“Thanks,” Stiles replied, “Though I could have done without the manhandling. You know, a simple ‘here, wear my jacket’ goes a long way, dude.”

Derek didn’t reply. He just leaned back and took in a deep breath. By putting his jacket on Stiles he was making him smell like him, making him feel like pack if only temporarily. He knew he was indulging himself.

“Will you miss me?” Derek asked.

“Well, yeah, duh,” Stiles replied.

“No, _really_ , Stiles. Like, will you cry?”

Stiles turned a bit on the bench, hiking one leg up and making eye contact with the hurting werewolf.

“Yes, Derek. I’ll fucking cry. I’ll probably cry off and on for a while. Dude, you’re my friend. I know I talked about letting you die a _lot_ in the beginning, but in case you haven’t noticed you’re kind of a huge part of my life now. _You_ may not see me as pack, but I do. You’re going to leave a gap in my life. Get it?”

Derek wasn’t sure what made him lean in. He was emotionally distraught and Stiles was telling him _exactly_ what he wanted to hear, and after his foray into homosexuality with Deaton he was apparently on the kiss-assault mode. Stiles, however, stilled when Derek focused on his lips and began to move forward. He took in a soft breath of surprise, his eyes widened, and he went completely still. Derek took that as permission and leaned forward to press their lips together- and jumped as a spark lit up the darkness between them and made them both jump and swear.

“Fucking hell,” Stiles laughed, “Sorry, dude, I’m the king of awkward.”

“It’s fine,” Derek laughed, and it was, so he turned his head back, caught Stiles’ cheek with a few of his fingers, and leaned in to try again.

This time there was no flash of electricity, but Derek swore he could feel a pulsing heat between them wherever flesh touched flesh. It took his breath away and he almost forgot to move his lips. To his pleasant surprise, Stiles leaned in further and made the kiss more intimate, his tongue sliding out curiously to caress Derek’s bottom lip. Derek welcomed him in by tilting his head and moving closer as his lips fell open. Stiles let out a soft sound of surprise, as if he’d expected Derek to pull away and spit in disgust. Instead Derek moaned softly as that same heat flooded the inside of his mouth and flowed through him like a hot drink. Stiles’ fist curled in Derek’s shirt and he made a soft whimpering sound as his tongue hesitantly flicked against Derek’s still tongue. The older man remembered to reciprocate despite the overwhelming flood of desire in his body and teased the sides of their tongues together. Stiles whined and pulled away, panting with wide eyes.

“Oh wow,” Stiles breathed, “That was hotter than I thought it could be.”

“Yeah,” Derek replied, leaning in for more.

“Why did you kiss me in the first place?” Stiles asked, eyebrows furrowed and voice accusing, “You’re not into guys. I should know, I have excellent gaydar.”

“I… don’t know,” Derek replied, leaning back as the moment was shattered, “I just wanted to, okay?”

Derek turned to face forward again and Stiles stared at him awkwardly for a moment before doing the same.

“Well…” Stiles sighed, “Like I was saying, you have to make a decision. You can wait it out or you can end it early. Either way, you’re going down so I see no reason for you to not enjoy what time you have left. I’d offer you my body, but it’s kind of not up for grabs.”

Stiles was joking, but Derek was starting to wonder something and felt a tight pull in his abdomen.

“Stiles, can you… share with me how your mom died?”

“I killed her, remember?”

“Yeah, but… how.”

“Morbid much?” Stiles huffed, clearly avoiding the truth.

“Was it magic?” Derek asked.

Stiles went stiff beside him, “How’d you know that?”

“Deaton treats you differently than us,” He told Stiles, “He trusted you with his powders. He wanted _you_ involved in a couple of his spells- or whatever he calls them. If he saw a budding emissary he’d know it, and you _are_ in Scott’s pack. You’re his emissary, aren’t you? Is Deaton training you?”

“I told him I didn’t want training,” Stiles replied softly, “I’m dangerous. Look how many people I’ve killed, Derek.”

“The nogitsune-”

“-Didn’t kill my mom. I did,” Stiles had gone stiff and cold beside him as he spoke, “She tried to tell the hospital staff, you know. She begged me not to. She cried and they had to sedate her to stop her from attacking me. Her own son. She was _that_ terrified of dying, of what I was doing to her, but I still didn’t stop.”

Derek stared at Stiles with a mixture of confusion and horror. Something wasn’t right, it just wasn’t.

“Why? Was it even intentional?”

“No,” Stiles replied, “It wasn’t intentional. I had no control over it. She was so sick for a while, but she should have lived for years longer. I guess I didn’t want her to suffer.”

“Is that what you would have done for me? Kill me with magic?”

“Maybe,” Stiles replied, turning his head to give him a haunted stare, “I still might. I have no control over it.”

“Deaton could-“

“I won’t learn,” Stiles replied, “Someday I’m going to be the monster again and then Scott will take me out. I was hoping it would be you to spare him that, but it will have to be him. Unless you want to do it now?”

“No!” Derek gaped, “Just… no! What the hell is wrong with you, why wouldn’t you go to him for help with this?!”

“Because I’m a killer, Derek. The nogitsune knew it, and now you know it too. I’m sick. It’s just a matter of time before I have to be put down. What pisses me off, is it’s not even like being turned could help me. That’s why Deaton brought it up. I got Peter to bite me but didn’t turn. I went to him to find out why and he admitted I was an emissary and offered to train me. I don’t think he thinks I’m ready, but it came up, so…”

“Right,” Derek nodded, “Let’s go talk to him now.”

“Dude not your circus, not your monkeys,” Stiles huffed, “And he’ll probably throw you through the doors again.”

Derek winced, “You saw that?”

“Uh, huh. I was outside. What did you do, kick his puppy? By puppy I mean Scott, by the way.”

“Yeah, something like that,” Derek grumbled.

“Look, this has been really, really uncomfortable and all, but I think we should head back. You just… you know… call me if you need anything. Or if you want to kill me before you die or have me kill you or something.”

“Yeah, I’ll do that,” Derek mumbled as Stiles stood up and dropped Derek’s jacket into his lap.

Stiles started back towards Scott’s house but Derek didn’t follow, and Stiles didn’t push the issue. He just continued on his way. Eventually Derek stood up and went home, curling up in his cold bed and immediately missing the heat Stiles had given him during their kiss. He fell asleep quickly out of sheer emotional drain, but his dreams were filled with hot breath, sweet caresses, and a powerful grip on his body. When Derek woke up he was curled up on the floor of his apartment instead of in his bed, completely naked with all evidence suggesting that he’d somehow managed to have sex with his leather jacket.

"Oh, fuck me," Derek whispered in shock. 


	2. Chapter 2

Just a short chapter I've gotten out between shifts at work. Sigh. More time will happen next week. 

Derek sat down opposite Scott at the cafeteria of his highschool with a tray in his hands.

“How did you…?” Scott asked, but Derek ignored him.

“How old is Stiles?” He asked sharply.

“He’ll be eighteen in a few weeks.”

“You’re inviting me to his party,” Derek stated firmly.

“Um… okay. Is this a part of your breakdown yesterday?”

“I didn’t breakdown.”

“Dude, you totally had a mental breakdown. It was weird.”

“Then let’s never speak of it again,” Derek replied, trying to intimidate Scott with his eyebrows. Scott really didn’t find Derek’s eyebrows that intimidating anymore, so it didn’t do much, but he did agree not to push the issue.

“Okay, so it’s Saturday at eight. We’re not allowed booze, so sneak it in.”

“I’m not bringing you guys booze.”

“You don’t have to. Lydia is bringing it. I just meant if you wanted alternatives you should sneak it in. BYOB.”

“Right. What sort of things does Stiles like?”

“Video games, books, porn, you know, teenager stuff.”

Derek winced, “Can we not call him a teenager, please?”

“Well, he will be for two more years-“

“Let’s go with ‘young adult’.”

“Okay. Weird, but okay. Does that go for me, too?”

“Are you eighteen yet?”

“Not for eight more months.”

“Then, no.”

“Jerk,” Scott laughed, “So are you okay now?”

“We’re not talking about that, remember?”

“Yeah, but-“

“I’ll be fine, but only if you can help me.”

“Okay, with what?” Scott asked, looking uncomfortable immediately. Derek wondered if Stiles had told him about the kiss or if Scott was worried Derek was going to ask about pack issues again.

“What do you know about werewolf mates?”

“Just that Deaton said I’ll know my mate when I find her,” Scott replied, “It’s Allison, of course. She’ll come around eventually.”

They were on another break and even Stiles was getting sick of it.

“I hope not,” Derek replied, “Because if she is, you’ll die in a few days.”

“Wait, what?”

“When you get rejected by your mate after connecting with them- usually in some intimate way- or if they die, you’ll die within a year. Maybe sooner.”

“That’s…” Scott’s eyes went wide, “But I don’t _feel_ like I’m dying.”

“Then Allison’s probably not your mate, which I _have_ tried to tell you before. Thing is, I _have_ found my mate, and I need your help getting him.”

“Okay,” Scott replied amicably, “He’s a friend of Stiles?”

“No,” Derek replied, “And I need you to keep this in strictest confidence, okay?”

“It’s Stiles, isn’t it?” Scott asked, eyes going wide, “He smelled like you when he came back yesterday. Ew… you guys…? No, don’t tell me. Okay, so if you already got him to… do stuff with you… why do you need my help?”

“We only kissed,” Derek replied, “And as a human he won’t feel the connection as powerfully as I will, but he’ll still get sick and die without me. We _need_ each other.”

“Are you serious?” Scott looked horrified, “So just… tell him!”

“I can’t,” Derek replied, “It’s important we handle this delicately.”

“Why?! Dude, just tell him!”

“I _can’t,”_ Derek argued. He wasn’t about to tell Scott that Stiles was bordering on suicidal. It was a betrayal of confidence, and he wouldn’t do that to his mate.

“Okay,” Scott replied, nodding his head, “So I take it you want to woo him once he’s eighteen?”

“Yes,” Derek made a face, “It’s already weird that he’s so young.”

“Okay, so we do this the legal way. So what do you need me to do.”

Derek blinked a few times, “Um…”

“You don’t know, do you?”

“Stiles usually comes up with the plans,” Derek grumbled.

“Yeah, well he’s not going to plan his own seduction- ew- so we’re going to have to do this the old fashioned way.”

“Call Lydia?” Derek asked.

“Yeah, I’ve got her on speed dial. Hang on.”

XXX

Stiles’ friends were all there, mostly the lacrosse team, and they were all completely freaked out by Derek’s presence. He walked in and headed straight for Stiles. His heart was pounding, but his usual grimace was still glued to his face because he _needed_ a shield. He held out the present and waited for Stiles to take it while the younger man stared up at him in confusion.

“What are you doing here?” Stiles asked with wide eyes.

“Dude, who’s he?” A teammate asked.

“A friend, but he’s not usually social,” Stiles replied, “Derek, Greenburg, Greenburg, Derek. Grunt hello, Derek.”

“Hm,” Derek replied, and pushed the gift directly under Stiles’ nose.

“Okay, thanks,” Stiles replied, accepting the gift, “Most people just gave me gift cards. You’re like… an hour late.”

Derek had changed his clothes six times, lost between looking good and being casual. He’d finally settled somewhere in between. Now he stood in front of Stiles waiting for him to open the gift. The little shit shook it, sniffed it, and then finally tore it open. Then he gaped.

“Dude. _Dude!_ Is this a Rolex?”

Oops. That was probably less than casual.

“Dude, that’s a _Rolex!_ ” Greenburg breathed, “You are so fucking lucky!”

“Derek, I can’t accept this-“

“Yeah, you can,” Derek grunted firmly.

“Okay,” Stiles blinked, “Yes, I can.”

Stiles began to put the watch on but fumbled the clasp. Derek reached down to fasten it properly, “There.”

“Wow, looks good,” Lydia told them, “Wine, Derek?”

“Sure,” Derek accepted it and sat down, forcing Greenburg aside so he could sit directly beside Stiles. Scott was on the other side, but Derek wasn’t about to move him. Scott was Stiles’ everything, so moving him would be a problem and infuriate them both.

“So, Derek,” Stiles stated calmly, “Is this about that walk we took?”

“No,” Derek replied sharply.

“Really?”

“Happy birthday,” Derek grunted out.

“Thanks, creepy yet cherished friend,” Stiles stated, clapping him on the shoulder, “I’m going to walk around for a bit. You know, mingle.”

Except it turned out most of the team couldn’t stand him, so when he mingled and the booze ran out they started leaving. Soon it was just Derek, Scott, Stiles, and Lydia. Derek had sat there grimacing around himself the entire time, trying to intimidate anyone from sitting beside him. It had worked on everyone except Scott who was teasingly making sure Stiles didn’t sit beside him again. Derek was annoyed, but hoped that by the end of the night he’d have what he needed. Stiles Stilinsky.

Scott sat down on the coffee table and Lydia on the end of the couch, motioning for Stiles to join her. He came over and gave her looks of longing while Derek felt jealousy begin to seethe beneath his skin. Lydia had given each of them a script for the night and apparently kept Scott up for hours working on it. Now it was time to put it in action.

“Um… if this is an intervention,” Stiles squeaked, “I can totally explain the new pile of video games in my room.”

“This is about Derek, actually,” Scott stated, giving Derek a tightlipped glance.

Derek narrowed his eyes and flared his nostrils like they’d practiced.

“Stiles,” Scott put a hand on Stiles’ shoulder, “This is going to come as a shock to you, but Derek is dying.”

Stiles blinked and glanced at Derek for direction, but when he was given none he just looked back at Scott, “Um, wow. That’s awful. Is he sick?”

“Scott,” Derek growled, his tone full of warning.

Scott made a show of giving him a reproving glance and looking back at Stiles, “He lost his mate and werewolves can’t live without them. He’s got less than a year, maybe less.”

“Okay,” Stiles nodded, “How can I help?”

Derek’s stomach dropped out. He hadn’t expected Stiles to jump on board that easily. He’d expected mocking, pointing out that Stiles already knew or… then again, Stiles had a secret he was keeping. It was entirely possible he was playing dumb to hide it. And they’d started by making him feel important by letting on that only _he_ knew the truth when the facts were actually polar opposites. Derek glanced at Lydia and wondered just how much _she_ knew. Her eyes revealed nothing.

“Derek’s _dying wish_ ,” Scott emphasized this with a side of ham large enough for a werewolf, “Is to be a part of a pack again. Our pack.”

“Cool,” Stiles glanced at him, “Welcome to the pack. Wants some cake?”

Derek winced, throwing it in as some improve because it made sense. Lydia gave him an approving glance when Stiles wasn’t looking.

“It’s not that simple,” Scott told her, “ _My_ wolf is being a dick about this. Apparently a part of me doesn’t trust or accept Derek, which is _totally not conscious_.”

Scott gave Derek a glance and then turned back to Stiles, but he interrupted.

“So what have I got to do with this?” Stiles asked with suspicion in his eyes. Derek realized that he’d put him in a bad position. Now Stiles thought Derek had shared _his_ secret!

“We want you to help us get Derek accepted into the pack,” Scott stated.

Derek snorted, “That’s not possible, Scott.”

“I think it is,” Scott stated, glancing at Derek with intense eyes, “I’ve done some research…” Now it was Stiles’ turn to snort in derision, “…Okay, _Lydia’s_ done some research, and a pack will accept the mate of their current pack. Stiles is like a brother to me, so-“

Derek stood up slowly, glaring at him with false fury, “My mate is _dead_ , Scott!”

“Yeah,” Scott nodded, “But my wolf is all instinct. Lydia thinks we can trick it into believing _Stiles_ is your mate.”

Here was the rub. Stiles was apparently relationship phobic. Erica and numerous other men and women had approached him and he’d fled in the other direction. Scott had told Derek there was no way in hell he would jump on the idea of being his actual mate- as in lifelong commitment to Derek not dying without him- but if they could turn it into a game he’d stumble right into it. So they were laying a trap of sorts for Stiles, and hopefully it would save Derek’s life.

“How the…?” Derek fumed, “Do you have any idea…? What the hell are you talking about?!”

“Yeah,” Stiles added with a side-eye, “What are you talking about, Scott?”

“We want you to spend a _lot_ of time with Derek- totally platonic!- so my wolf thinks you two are mates or at least associates him with pack. Like… sleep in the same bed and cuddle and wear each other’s clothes.”

“Are you fucking _kidding_ me?” Derek rages, “I bother to share with you _for once_ , and this is what you do with it? Some half-assed plan to-“

“Okay,” Stiles states softly, but Derek’s hearing is powerful enough that he hears it and his head whips around sharply enough to hurt his neck. He’s forgotten his script. He’s forgotten to act angry. Stiles is going to cuddle with him. All is well in the world and he is considering the cake.

“Really?” Scott asks in shock.

“Yeah,” Stiles states, “Whatever makes his last few months barable. I mean, assuming he’s game?”

Stiles looks up at him with pity in his eyes and Derek realizes he’s fallen for it hook, line, and sinker. He’ll figure it out along the way, because the young man is smart as hell, but for now he’s trying to give Derek the comfort he needs. He’s also giving Derek a pointed look to remind him that Stiles is _not safe_ around dying people. Derek gives Stiles a subtle nod, and then answers verbally.

“Okay. Sure. I’m desperate enough to try this _idiotic_ idea,” Derek states, “But you’re missing one very crucial detail.”

“What’s that?” Scott asks.

“There will have to be _at least_ a scent of sexual arousal around us for your wolf to take it seriously,” Derek pointed out, letting himself look as uncomfortable as he honestly felt, “Otherwise your wolf will just assume we’re friends.”

“Yeah, we don’t want his wolf assuming we’re friends,” Stiles snorted, finally bringing on the jokes.

“Well maybe…” Scott grimaces and Lydia outright leers, “Maybe you two could… I dunno… circle jerk?”

Derek’s cock twitches in his pants and Stiles’ face goes between horrified, amused, and intrigued before settling on false calm, “Yeah, that might work.”

“This day just gets weirder and weirder,” Derek announces, deciding now was the time for his exit stage left, “I’m getting some of that damn cake.”

Derek stomped off.

There was no more cake.


	3. Chapter 3

Stiles dropped a few bags of stuff down on Derek’s floor and walked away from it despite the werewolf’s glare.

“So, since we’re going to be bunking up I think we should lay out some ground rules,” Stiles stated firmly, “I picked ‘hopscotch’ for my safety word. What’s yours?”

“Right. Hopscotch,” Derek nodded, “One question.”

“Yeah?”

“The fuck is a safety word?”

“Wow, really?” Stiles raised an eyebrow, “You kinda struck me as the kind of guy who… well, who likes to strike his lovers. Okay. Well. A safety word is a way to stop someone from doing something you don’t like. For instance, you start to-“

“How about no?” Derek snapped.

“You don’t think we’ll run across an awkward situation where-“

“No, I mean how about we use the _word ‘no’_ ,” Derek snapped, “This isn’t kinky play, Stiles. We’re grown adults. We’ll use the word ‘no’.”

Stiles pouted but didn’t protest, but that left Derek wondering _what_ Stiles had expected to happen. Personally, he was looking forward to seducing the skittish young man, but what if he’d hoped for something more exciting? Before Derek could ask what was going to happen between them that had Stiles requesting a safety word, the young man let out a whoop of excitement and bolted across to the television.

“You have Pilot Seer IV?!”

Derek grinned broadly, “I have all six.”

Stiles gaped for a moment, “We’re starting our cuddling right here, on this couch, during a merathon.”

“You have school tomorrow,” Derek reminded.

“We’re saving your life here, Der,” Stiles scolded, “Try to focus. This is more important than me finishing the last month of the worst four years of my life.”

“Won’t you get in trouble?” Derek asked.

“Tomorrow is Senior Skip Day,” Stiles told him, “I picked tonight to move in for a reason. Coffee or soda?”

Derek frowned, “This is my loft. I should be offering _you_ refreshments.”

“I know that,” Stiles sighed, “I was asking you _what you have_.”

“Oh. Both.”

“I’ll have one of each, please,” Stiles grinned, starting to push buttons on Derek’s blue-ray player, “This is so cool, this thing must have cost a fortune.”

“Fucking hell, you’re just like Peter! Stop touching it and go help yourself to a drink,” Derek snapped, tugging his hand away, “I-“

Derek froze, staring at their hands. That same heat was flowing between them again, but this time Derek could barely breath. He’d been stressed for two weeks while missing Stiles but knowing that he’d have his chance if he was just _patient_ , but now Stiles was here and he just wanted to wrap around him like a scarf. Stiles was staring at their hands with a confused look on his face.

“Dude, you’re like, freakishly warm. Are you feeling okay?”

Stiles’ other hand came up to rest on his forehead and Derek hummed in approval and leaned into it. His eyes fell shut and he fought down the urge to make soft huffing sounds of pleasure.

“Wow, yeah,” Stiles worried at his lip, “You’re burning up.”

“W-werewolves don’t get sick,” Derek breathed, alarmed at how breathy his voice sounded. He jerked back in alarm, shaking his head to get himself focused. How the _hell_ was Stiles seducing _him?_ With his awkwardness?

“So what’s up with you?” Stiles asked.

“We’re warmer than humans,” Derek lied.

“Scott isn’t.”

“Born ones are.”

“Yeah right,” Stiles scoffed.

“Fine,” Derek growled, grinding his teeth, “It’s because I’m missing my mate.”

Stiles gave him a frustrated glare, “Fine. I thought so. Look, sit down. _I’ll_ figure out your high tech gizmo, get us both food and drinks, and come cuddle with you. Do you need anything specific?”

“No,” Derek replied, sitting down. There was something oddly soothing about having Stiles want to care for him.

“You have popcorn?”

“Kernels.”

“Cool, I know how to make that. Pan or popper?”

“Microwavable bowl, actually. It’s red.”

“Cool! You have neat shit, dude.”

“Thanks,” Derek replied, feeling numb now that Stiles wasn’t touching him anymore, “I haven’t been sleeping well. I might fall asleep. Just… stay and enjoy the movies, okay?”

“Yeah, sure,” Stiles calls from the open kitchen, “No problem. You like salt on your popcorn?”

“Yeah.”

“Good. Me too.”

Stiles hummed happily as he worked in the kitchen. He hurried over with his arms full and dropped a bowl of popcorn down on the couch, put two sodas and a cup of coffee down on the table- only spilling a few drops- and then bolted around to turn on the player. He fiddled with it while Derek winced and then got it going with the first movie. He jumped over the coffee table, drawing a shout of frustration from Derek, and flopped onto the couch beside him. He downed a few gulps of coffee and then stunned Derek by grabbing his arm, pulling it over his shoulders, and cuddling into his side. Stiles continued to sip his coffee with a happy sigh or two as the movie started. Derek couldn’t stop staring at him. He knew connections were usually made during intimacy, which for he and Stiles meant that steamy kiss, but he hadn’t expected it to completely change his view of Stiles. He was still growling at him every few seconds, but it was more out of worry and longing than irritation and frustration. He wanted him nearby and _safe_. He also wanted him naked and under him, but that was going to have to wait. He didn’t want Stiles to think that Derek wanted sex for the sake of having it before death. He wanted them to create a meaningful relationship in which Stiles would want to _stay_ with him once it was revealed that he was his mate.

Derek did indeed fall asleep during the movie, but it was waking up that was a surprise. He felt a soft caress against his face and turned his head into the hot, tingling digits, tongue moving out automatically to chase after them as they retreated. A laugh sounded and he was jostled a bit so he opened his eyes to inspect why. He’d somehow ended up with his head on Stiles’ lap, and Stiles was stroking his hair. Derek spent a moment wondering if he was still dreaming, and held up his fingers to examine them curiously.

“That must have been some nightmare,” Stiles spoke softly.

“Don’t remember,” Derek replied, having concluded that he only had ten fingers, “Was I out long?”

“Half a movie,” Stiles replied, “Don’t worry, I won’t tell Scott.”

“That I fell asleep?” Derek yawned, then felt something tickle his cheek. Stiles petted it again and Derek realized that he was wiping a tear away, “Oh. I guess it _was_ a bad dream.”

“Either that or losing your mate has really affected you badly. Do you want to talk about her?”

Derek considered that offer. He had a rare opportunity here and he could indulge it in the hopes of nostalgia later… assuming they survived. Derek smiled softly and sat up, rubbing at his face and leaning back into the couch to consider what to say.

“She…. Wasn’t what I expected. At all. I guess that’s why I didn’t figure it out right away. Not until it was too late,” _Too late, as in I’d already bonded with ‘her’ unintentionally_ , “She’s awkward and goofy and doesn’t take anything seriously, but she’s the sort who will stand up to me despite… despite…”

“Despite?” Stiles asked.

Derek took a slow deep breath, “Being human. Gods, you assholes are so fragile.”

“I’m sorry,” Stiles replied, rubbing his shoulder awkwardly, “I shouldn’t have asked. This has to hurt.”

“We aren’t in love,” Derek shook his head, “It doesn’t work that way. The bond is created when two ‘wolves- or a human and a ‘wolf- who are destined to be mates touch each other intimately. It can be something as simple as a hug or as intense as sex. Then the pair will be drawn to each other, the ‘wolf more than the human, until their bond becomes unbreakable.”

“It can be broken?” Stiles asked softly.

“Yes and no,” Derek replied, “A mate that rejects someone very early on can _maybe_ survive the bond breaking, but usually death means death for the other partner.”

“Do all werewolves have mates?” Stiles wondered.

“No,” Derek replied, “I’m only aware of it because my mother predicted it and told me. I had no idea I had a mate out there or I’d…”

Derek blushed and Stiles’ face twisted in amusement, “You’d have, what? Saved yourself for her?”

“Yeah,” Derek ducked his head and laughed at himself a bit, “Well… I guess it’s too late for that. Anyway, she’s skinny and-“

“Derek, I think we should stop talking about her,” Stiles interrupted, hand touching the back of Derek’s and a serious look on his face.

“Oh, sure,” Derek frowned, sniffing the air subtly to try and figure out if Stiles was jealous.

“It’s just… dude, you’re referring to her as if she’s still alive. I know this is probably really hard on you, but you have to face up to her death. It’s not going to just go away, and I’m worried that you feeling like this is going to make your scent change or something werewolfy like that. We need to focus on convincing Scott that we’re mates.”

“Yeah,” Derek nodded, “You’re right. Thanks for refocusing me.”

“So, now that the last movie is over we should probably put in the next one and spend some time making out.”

“Wait, what?” Derek’s eyes widened as Stiles got up and went to the player to change disks.

“It’s standard protocol,” Stiles stated, nodding his head sagely.

“Okay,” Derek stated, nodding his head, “I get that.”

Stiles returned and flopped down, popping a tube of mints open. He stuck one in his mouth and crunched it firmly, offering it to Derek. Derek accepted it and imitated Stiles. The movie started and Stiles leaned in and stared at Derek with wide eyes.

“You okay?” Derek asked, checking his breath and frowning at Stiles’ terrified look.

“This was easier when you surprised me at the park. Now I can’t stop thinking about your teeth.”

Derek smirked, “Is that why you wanted a safety word? Got a biting kink?”

Stiles gave him a nervous laugh and rubbed at the back of his head, “More like a solid respect for my tongue and lips not resembling ribbons.”

“I’m not going to eat your face _literally_ ,” Derek snorted, “But if you’re not up for this we can wait. We should probably get used to each other first rather than diving in.”

“We have a time limit,” Stiles frowned, “What if you don’t make it a year?”

“I’m sure I will,” Derek replied, thinking of how he’d be spending time with Stiles. That was enough to satisfy the bond. They needn’t be _intimate_ right away. In fact, there were mates who had platonic bonds triggered by a hug, who married others and lived out happy lives with an ‘epic bromance’ as Scott would probably call it, “I feel pretty good right now. Having you near is soothing. It feels like pack.”

Stiles face lit up, “Really? This is helping already?”

“I slept, didn’t I?” Derek pointed out, nudging him, “No need to push things. I don’t want you smelling distressed because I jumped your bones before you were ready.”

“Ha, very funny,” Stiles rolled his eyes, “We both know it isn’t going to go that far. I doubt you’ll even be into jerking me off, even if you did suck on my tongue for a bit a few weeks ago. I mean, look at me! I don’t exactly have tits, dude.”

Derek gave him a slow, lingering look and then nodded, “No tits, but you shouldn’t put yourself down. You’re gorgeous, Stiles.”

“Dude, don’t joke like that,” Stiles frowned, “I already told you, I’ll miss you when you’re gone. You don’t have to like… woo me. I don’t want to _actually_ fall in love with you. That would suck. A lot.”

“Yeah,” Derek nodded, “C’mere. We’ll just go back to cuddling.”

“Good,” Stiles pushed into his side with a relieved sigh and they were soon engrossed in the movie again. Derek was subtly sniffing at Stiles’ hair and watching his profile as they enjoyed the movie. When he inevitably fell asleep again his dreams were of a completely different nature.


	4. Chapter 4

Stiles pulled at Derek’s arm as he grumbled crankily. Stiles had woken him up when he’d started having an erotic dream, teasing him and telling him it was officially time for bed.

“Dude, you were like… panting and arching your back like you wanted it bad,” Stiles laughed, “You are so never living this down.”

Derek blinked blearily, “I’m tired, and you’re 18. No way you don’t have wet dreams.”

“Yeah but you’re like, _old_! Don’t you ever outgrow that?”

_Not when you bond to your mate. Hello puberty #2._

“Eventually,” Derek replied, “But what can I say, you’re just too damn sexy.”

It probably didn’t come off as smoothly as Derek had planned since Stiles laughed at his reply. He pulled him towards the bed and shoved at him until Derek sat down on the bed. Then Stiles dropped to his knees _(Hello!)_ and began pulling Derek’s shoes off. He shoved at Derek until he got his pants off and then stood up and pulled his shirt over his head. Derek was drowning in a lazy arousal, staring up at Stiles as he stood over him.

“Stiles,” Derek breathed.

“Yeah, yeah, sleepywolf,” Stiles chuckled, “Lie down.”

Derek flopped back and Stiles stepped away from him, turning his back and starting to strip out of his clothes. Derek shimmied up the bed and watched as Stiles’ mole covered back is revealed to him. He removed his pants to reveal a pair of black boxer briefs that made Derek’s breath catch. Stiles had clearly planned that part. He’d seen inside the young man’s chest of drawers and knew most of his underwear had super heroes on it. Stiles toed out of his socks and headed for the bed, crawling into it and laying on his side. Derek turned and slid his hand over Stiles’ hip, along his ribs, and pressed against the small of his back to draw him closer.

“Hey,” Stiles said softly.

“Hmm,” Derek replied, and then he was waking up with the smell of semen high in the air and the bed warm but vacant beside him.

Derek sat up in confusion and looked around himself for Stiles, but he was absent. A moment of listening drew his attention to the bathroom and the sound of running shower. So what had happened? Derek checked the clock and saw it was the next day. He’d _fallen asleep again_. Derek groaned and rubbed at his face in disgust. Then he recalled the scent and checked around himself again. He found none in the bed, but he still caught the scent. He rolled over and stood up, sniffing around in a circle like a dog chasing his tail until…

_My ass?!_

Derek stripped off his boxers and breathed in deep. Stiles must have been spooning him because there was none on the inside, just the outside, and only a few drops. Stiles had come in his own boxers and it had soaked through to Derek’s. Derek shivered in desire, but he could smell the shame and embarrassment in the room as well. Stiles wouldn’t want him approaching him now.

Derek changed and headed downstairs, quickly whipping up some breakfast. When Stiles came down he gave Derek a horrified look and started fumbling for his schoolbag.

“I made breakfast.”

“Running late.”

“Yeah, but you-“

“Bye.”

“Stiles!” Derek snapped, and the younger man froze, “Take some food with you. It’s important.”

“Yeah, balanced breakfast, blah, blah, blah,” Stiles grumbled, but he returned and snatched up two pieces of toast, scraped some eggs between them, and left with them wrapped in a napkin. The door slit shut behind him and bounced back open.

“You’re welcome,” Derek huffed.

XXX

_Late again._

Stiles sat down at his desk and saw Scott’s face screw up as he sniffed the air around his friend. Then his face twisted in excitement and he bounced a bit like a hyper active kid. Stiles flushed red and ducked his head. Apparently he hadn’t washed up enough. He’d hadn’t showered knowing he might be getting rid of the work they’d done the night before, but he’d washed the crusty spunk off of his groin… or he thought he had. Some of it must have remained because Scott clearly thought they’d had sex. Stiles wasn’t going to correct him. If Scott thought that then his wolf was _definitely_ convinced, and since they were practically brothers Scott wouldn’t want details.

Stiles’ phone went off and he checked it under his desk to find that Scott was congratulating him on the surrender of his V card. He then went on to babble about how fantastic it was to find Stiles’ mate.

 **Mate?** Stiles asked.

**Didn’t Derek tell you? I thought he would for sure now that you’re giving him the D.**

**Tell me what?**

Scott looked panicked and quickly tried to change the subject, but as usually failed miserably.

**So apparently Alison wasn’t my mate. I won’t stop looking until I find her. Or him. I had no idea men were an option for wolves, but apparently they are. Hey, do you think Derek can get pregnant? Is that a thing? Did you ask him?**

Stiles stared at his phone in confusion and then growing rage. When he looked back up at Scott he realized his mistake and turned pale in horror.

**You tricked me!**

**It was Lydia’s idea**

**You’re supposed to be my friend!**

**We knew you’d freak out if you knew, but Derek would die without you so we had to**

Stiles stood up, grabbed his backpack, and headed for the door while the teacher shouted at him to get back in his seat. He was too damned angry. He kept going and didn’t stop until he’d slammed through into Derek’s home again.

“You bastard!” Stiles shouted, “You had me buying that sob story about your mate being dead?! You lying sack of shit!”

Derek lifted an eyebrow from where he was cleaning up the kitchen, “I _did_ think my mate was dead.”

“Bullshit!” Stiles snapped, “Scott spilled the beans about Lydia’s plot to trap me as your she-wolf and have your mpreg babies!”

“I’m not planning on turning you, and even if I was you wouldn’t be a she-wolf,” Derek replied, “And what the hell is em-preg?”

“Stop making this confusing!” Stiles raged, pulling at his hair.

“I’m pretty sure Scott managed that already,” Derek huffed, putting down the knife and wiping off his hands, “Look, I wanted to just tell you but Scott advised me not to. He said you’re relationship phobic.”

“Of course I am!” Stiles snapped, “I’m fucking _dangerous!_ I only agreed to this in the first place because I thought you were _already dying!_ ”

“So did I,” Derek stated with a shrug as he came around to stand in front of Stiles, “Now I have a new lease on life. You.”

Derek reached out to stroke the back of his hand along Stiles’ cheekbone, but he pulled back with an anxious look on his face.

“I can’t do this,” Stiles told him, voice cracking in misery.

“I know you don’t have feelings for me, Stiles,” Derek told him, “I’m only just starting to appreciate _you_. It’s going to take time, but we’ll find a way to fit with each other and I _know_ I can make you happy. It’s our destiny.”

“I don’t believe in destiny,” Stiles told him, “I _do_ however, believe in research. I looked up werewolf mates in the information the Hunters provided us with. I know you don’t have to be with me… like that. I just can’t reject you as a mate or you’ll die, but if we stay friends then you’ll be fine.”

Derek growled in frustration, “If by ‘fine’ you mean incomplete for the rest of our lives!”

“For _your_ life, Derek,” Stiles snapped, “Which will be elongated by me _not dying_ due to being a murderer, so if we don’t _murder you_ by having me get so close than it works out for us both!”

“No it doesn’t!” Derek snapped, “I’d rather die together than apart!”

Stiles paled and shook his head, “I’m not… I’m not doing that. You don’t love me. You said so. You won’t miss me when I’m gone.”

“Yes I will,” Derek replied miserably, “I haven’t slept more than two hours in a row in weeks, Stiles. Last night was the first time I’ve slept for a full night since we kissed. _I need you_.”

Stiles looked like he wanted to throw up. He shook his head miserably and started backing towards the door.

“I’ll… I’ll see you in a few days. We’ll hang. Okay? Okay. Bye.”

“Stiles,” Derek pleaded softly, but he didn’t chase after him. He knew what a man who needed to run looked like.


	5. Chapter 5

A big thank you to aaaghfuckthisshit for inspiring parts of this chapter ;) Your name also reminds me of my feelings towards a chapter or two at times. 

 

Derek gave Stiles some space, but it wasn’t easy. He wanted to be near Stiles desperately. He lay the first night breathing in his scent from the pillow they’d shared. The second night he went searching for something left behind and found a sock under the couch. It wasn’t a _pleasant_ scent, but it was still Stiles’, so he kept it nearby for a while. He wasn’t sleeping well and after a few days he gave in and texted Stiles.

**Can you come over?**

**For what?**

Derek thought for a moment and then decided to be honest, **I can’t sleep. You can watch a movie and I’ll just crash on the couch with you like before.**

**Fine, but don’t make this weird.**

Derek cleaned up his place, showered, popped popcorn, and pulled out every movie he owned in the span of time it took Stiles to pack a bag and drive over. When he came in Derek gave him a welcoming smile but Stiles returned it with a look of shock.

“Dude, you look like shit,” Stiles told him.

Derek waved Stiles in, “I haven’t slept well since you left.”

“So if you haven’t been sleeping maybe you could have been, I dunno, cleaning?”

Derek looked around himself and his eyes widened in surprise, “I… I cleaned this up.”

“No, you _messed_ this up,” Stiles told him, surveying the disaster, “Derek, how many hours are you getting a night?”

“None for the last three nights,” Derek replied, closing the door and giving the room a confused look, “I think?”

“Yeah, I figured,” Stiles nodded, “You’re not okay, Der. You’re hallucinating from the sleep deprivation like I was with the Nogitsune.”

“I’m a werewolf,” Derek snapped, “I can go weeks without sleeping!”

“You said you haven’t slept well since I left, right? Derek, that _was_ weeks ago.”

“It… it was?” Derek asked, shoulders slumping.

“Yeah, and by the looks of things you’ve been living on take-out and movies the whole time.”

“I just took the movies out,” Derek replied.

“Sure you did,” Stiles shook his head, “That’s why there’s dust on them. Okay, wait here. I’m going to go change.”

Stiles walked away and Derek made another attempt at cleaning up. Stiles came down just as he was shoving things into the dishwasher.

“Derek, that’s the fridge. Back away from the knives before you hurt yourself.”

Derek sighed and gave up, turning to face Stiles and snickering, “Oh, I really hope this part isn’t a hallucination.”

“I’m not naked, am I?” Stiles asked with narrowed eyes.

“No, you’re in footie pajamas. Superman footie pajamas.”

“Damn right,” Stiles nodded, “Neck to toe coverage. Now get over here and fall asleep.”

Derek hurried over, chucked off his shoes, and sat on the couch with a eager look, “Just put on whatever you want. I’m sure I can sleep through it.”

“Uh, uh,” Stiles shook his head, “This is way worse than I thought. Up to your room, _and no funny business._ The pajamas stay on me and you’ll wear something comfortable to bed because you won’t be leaving there for a _while_ , got it?”

Derek nodded and after he changed into something light and comfortable they curled up to sleep. He fell asleep the second he draped an arm around Stiles’ waist and didn’t wake up until thirty hours later.

XXX

“So you two are just going to bunk together?” Scott asked.

“Not every night,” Stiles replied, “He’s okay if he smells me regularly. So I come over and roll around on his bed, leave my scent there, and then leave most days. He’s usually not there when I do it. I think even _he_ thinks it’s weird. We’ll both get used to it in time. Other than that we hit up a diner for breakfast together once a week and I’ve roped him into playing League of Legends with me so now I can proudly say I’ve turned a werewolf into a nerd.”

“So,” Scott’s face scrunched up in his ‘I’m so confused please enlighten me Stiles the Brilliant’ face, “How did other ‘mates’ manage to deal with being platonic?”

“I dunno,” Stiles shrugged, “According to Peter-“

“You asked _Peter_? Wait… how did you ask Peter?”

“He left some info behind and Derek gathered it up. So, according to Peter a mate is someone you need in your life, but they can have different roles; friend, lover, lacrosse buddy, and apparently pillow.”

“Huh,” Scott thought on that for a bit, “So, how can I help? You said you were uncomfortable on the phone.”

“Yeah, the breakfast thing was my way of seeing him, getting free food, and it not being a date because it’s not dinner, right?”

“Seems logical.”

“Yeah, but it still _feels_ like a date, and Derek is treating it like one. He spends the whole time trying to flirt with me and gets these weird… anyway… the point is, I need you to be my third wheel.”

“Somehow I’m not sure that’s how that sentence was supposed to work,” Scott chuckled, “Shouldn’t it be wingman?”

“No, because I do not want to mate with my mate, got it? No touchy. I just want him alive. So you come along and make things awkward like I used to do with you and Allison.”

“You never made-“

“She’s gone, dude. You don’t have to keep saying that. She’s not here to convince.”

“Right, so, I’ll make things awkward.”

“Perfect. You’re the best, bro.”

XXX

Derek leered at Stiles as he approached, “You look delicious.”

“That’s probably sexier to women,” Stiles replied, drawing up a chair to join Derek and giving Scott a pointed glance, “See what I mean? Flirting. All the flirting.”

“Men can be eaten out, too,” Derek replied with a laugh.

“They can?” Stiles and Scott both asked, eyes going wide.

“Wait, how?” Scott asked, becoming distressed, “Because… I mean… it’s a tiny hole and tongues are big and…”

“Not the pee hole!” Stiles corrected, smacking Scott’s arm, then looked over at Derek with a apprehensive look on his face, “Not the pee hole, right?”

Derek smirked, “You two are such virgins.”

“Hey, I’m not!” Scott argued. Stiles punched his arm.

“You got it on with a Hunter princess,” Derek laughed, “You might not be a virgin, but you _are_ vanilla, and that’s almost as bad.”

“So, what’s chocolate?” Scott snapped, then looked confused, “Wait… it’s not…”

“ _EW!_ ” Stiles declared and then lowered his voice to a whisper, “Not _the back door_.”

“Yes, Stiles,” Derek deadpanned, “It’s called rimming, and it’s fantastic.”

“Ugh!” Scott looked like he might be ill.

“With your whole super scent and stuff I figured your taste buds would be a bit more refined,” Stiles replied, nose wrinkled up.

“You wash up first,” Derek replied raising his eyebrows to imply how obvious that should be, “Then its just tastes like the skin on any other part of your body.”

“I’m calling bullshit on this,” Stiles decided, “No way anyone else has done this except Hinky Hale here.”

“You want to bet?” Derek smirked.

“What are the odds?” Stiles asked with narrowed eyes.

“You guys fan out and ask every guy you bump into if he’s ever tried rimming- giving or taking- and then report back.”

“We’ll get our asses kicked,” Stiles argued.

“So go together and laugh like you’re drunk. They’ll eat it up and Scott can protect you,” Derek pointed out.

“So what do I win when it turns out every guy here is grossed out?” Stiles wanted to know.

Derek glanced over at the bar tender who had refused to let him buy three drinks earlier after getting a look at Stiles and Scott waving to him from the door, “I’ll buy you guys a six pack of beer on the way home.”

“Sweet!” Scott declared, starting to stand up.

“Wait a second!” Stiles stopped him, “What happens if some kink convention is in town and people _are_ into it?”

“You have to let me rim you,” Derek replied, eyes flashing blue.

Stiles made a face, “Ew. No. Not worth the risk.”

Scott slumped down in his chair and sipped his coke.

“What about if we make it a game of numbers?” Derek offered, “I’ll even make it easy. Majority wins. That way if the difference is even one off you might still beat me.”

Stiles considered it and Scott looked hopeful, “You’re on. C’mon Scotty. Let’s go ask these biker dudes a really personal, invasive, and creepy question.”

Stiles took off and Scott chased him with a worried look on his face.

“Hi!” Stiles declared with a big grin on his face as he leaned into the first group of bearded and tattooed men, “A buddy and I have a bet going so we need to ask you dudes a really weird question. Rimming. Yes or no?”

Looks of disgust, amusement, and confusion met him and then a conversation broke out that almost mirrored the one they’d had with Derek a moment ago. The results were two against and one for. Stiles threw Derek a challenging glance and headed for the next table. Derek was watching them closely, turning in his chair as they approached each group. Stiles was starting to sweat because the second group yielded four men who loved rimming and none who didn’t. The third, however, got him all disgusted shouts and a threat to throw his ‘twink ass out’. Scott had given them a glare that had apparently made his point despite his smaller stature. Some people could just _feel_ the predator underneath. Stiles headed for the bar next to speed up the process and the whole room was soon shouting and laughing at his question. By the time he was done he not only had a majority vote _for_ rimming, but he also had a few suggestions about what should come after. Not to be deterred, Stiles headed for two more tables, but Scott stopped him and gave Derek an anxious look.

“Stiles,” Scott whispered event though it was 100% likely that Derek could hear him, “I don’t think you need me to make this awkward.”

Stiles glanced at Derek and then did a double take and whispered, “I can’t believe I was going to let that trouser kielbasa near my body.”

Derek gave them a dirty look from where he was standing at the bar, having gone over to finish the convo Stiles had started. He was trying to convince the bartender to at least give _him_ a drink, but the man was refusing for more than one reason. He was also hesitant to give Derek any soda now that he looked like a huge pervert.

“We’re just friends, and even if we weren’t I wouldn’t slip them something in their drinks! Just… put a coaster on top or something!”

Stiles determinedly headed for the next tables and then returned to find Derek pouting. He’d heard the answer from across the room. Stiles was grinning from ear to ear having won by that measly one vote that Derek had roped him into betting with.

“He’s bringing us cokes and you’re both assholes,” Derek grouched.

“Then you better keep that thing away from us, because we’re fragile and require a lot of-“ Scott elbowed Stiles to keep him from continuing.

“I can’t help it,” Derek growled, shifting uncomfortably, “It’s a reaction to being near you and then you talking about sex like a fucking porn sketch start up!”

“I noticed,” Stiles nodded, “And because I’m a patient, noble, and all around fantastic guy, I haven’t sprayed you in the face with pepper spray and blown my rape whistle. That being said… dude, can’t you _tuck it_?”

“No.”

“How about looser pants?” Scott replied, “I’m actually kinda worried about circulation in those jeans.”

Stiles gave Scott a disgusted look, but he just shrugged and Stiles conceded the point.

“I’m fine,” Derek replied, “Could we talk about something besides my wood?”

“Like maybe… the woods!” Scott jumped on the nearest topic, “There are woods that your family owns!”

Derek blinked, “Yes. Yes there are. What the hell did Peter see in you that screamed ‘turn this one, he will be the future of the Hale pack’?”

Scott scowled, “ _Natural_ Alpha, remember?”

“Natural blonde would make more sense,” Derek gruffed.

“Ignore him,” Stiles instructed Scott, “He’s surly when he’s horny. You’re just a big bad wolf, you know that?”

“You have no idea, Little Red,” Derek purred out, eyes falling to half mast as he undressed Stiles with his eyes.

“Ew. Dude. Secure the rape face. It’s freaking me out. Put it and your trouser python away.”

“I’m not doing anything,” Derek growled, “I _can_ admire you, can’t I?”

“There’s nothing to admire,” Stiles blushed.

“Are you _joking?_ ” Derek huffed, “Who did you think I was describing when I talked about my mate to you?”

“Paige,” Stiles blinked.

“Paige? Who the fuck told you about- You know what? I’m glad Peter’s dead. Moving on. New subject. This time you pick, Stiles, because every time Scott picks things get awkward.”

“See?” Stiles told Scott, “Third wheel is totally the best role in the date.”

Scott shook his head, an amused look on his face, “I think you’re mistaking that with-“

“So this _is_ a date?” Derek asked, eyebrows shooting up.

 _“Not-date_!” Stiles snapped, voice cracking, “Best part in the not-date!”

Derek huffed and looked away and Scott gave him an amused look, “Do werewolves have children’s tales?”

“Of course they do,” Derek replied grouchily.

“Yeah, but… are they different from human ones? Like do you have your own version of Little Red Riding Hood?”

Derek’s eyes flashed blue again but then he took a deep breath, closed his eyes a moment, and visibly recentered himself.

“That’s… not something I’ve thought about for a long time.”

“Why?” Scott asked, but Stiles elbowed him and Scott recalled the fire and Derek’s dead family. They would have been the ones to tell him the stories.

“It’s fine,” Derek replied, glancing away, “I should tell you. That way you can pass them on when I’m…”

“Not back to that again,” Stiles groaned, “Dude, you’ll be fine. We just need to find a good balance between seeing me and me not rejecting you.”

Derek’s eyes swung over to Scott, “I’ll tell you in private.”

“What? Why?” Stiles asked, eyes narrowing.

“Because it’s personal to wolf culture and you’ll make fun of it,” Derek stated, “Also because I don’t feel like sharing with you when you won’t share with me.”

“My butt, Derek,” Stiles deadpanned, “You want me to share my butt.”

“You think I’m that selfish?” Derek raised an eyebrow, “Fine. Whatever. Still not telling you.”

“I wasn’t the one who wanted to know anyway,” Stiles snapped, looking away and sipping at his straw.

Derek watched as Stiles chased his straw with his tongue and swallowed hard as he sucked the soda threw it. He’d give anything to be that straw. Or that glass, seeing as how Stiles’ hand was wrapped around it. Or the bead of sweat sliding down his temple. Or the drop of soda on his lip. _Oh fuck, his tongue_. _Yeah, one more drop, lick it all up! Oh fuck!_ Derek fought down a whimper and Scott gave him a terrified look. He could probably smell the precome in Derek’s pants. Stiles had noticed him staring and given him a dirty look, turning further away to give him the official cold shoulder. Then he began to squirm. He pulled out his phone and studied it for a few minutes. He put it away, his expression filled with discontent. Scott was staring at some girls and Derek gave them a flirty look to draw them in. Like moths, they wafted over to flirt with them but Stiles was already in research mode. Derek watched as Scott, the only one showing them any attention, effortlessly collected numbers while Derek waited for Stiles to cave. The younger man spun around with a sound like a choking wildebeast.

“Oh, fine! What price?!”

Derek smirked, “A kiss for every story I tell you.”

“Fucking hell. Done.”


	6. Chapter 6

“My mother always told me that our stories were the _real_ stories, though I don’t know if that’s true. According to her, humans collected them by overhearing our children talk about them and made them children’s stories. In reality, they’re our history. So, which do you want to hear first?” Derek asked, his voice taunting.

Stiles’ eyes were wide and excited and he was practically vibrating out of his chair.

“Werewolf _history?!_ ”

“Stiles knowledge mode… activate!” Scott mocked.

Stiles smacked him and then motioned frantically for Derek to continue. Derek was momentarily distracted by Stiles’ fingers in correlation to their previous conversation and then shook himself out of it.

“Okay, so there’s no logical order to them so you can pick anything you want.”

“Okay, okay, ummm…”

“Little Red-“ Scott started.

“My kiss, my pick!” Stiles snapped, hitting him again, “Ummm… umm… Pinocchio!”

Derek nodded, smiling at Stiles in a heated way, and then suddenly sobered, lowering his chin and sinking into a solemn state, “The name’s been changed over the years. The original title was sorbo degli uccellatori, which is a mouthful of Italian words that translates to ‘Mountain Ash’, so I will just call him Ash…

An woodcutter by the name of Geppetto lived in a small Italian village near Florence. He was once a powerful Emissary, but he had resigned his reign when his son, whose mother was a wolf, had become the alpha of his pack and chosen a new Emissary. His son had then abandoned him, leaving him to weather long winters alone and work the earth to barely get enough food to survive the rest of the year. The man was reduced to omega and rogue, but through no choice or crime of his own. He yearned for the company of a pack so he began to carve wolves out of wood and decorate his home with them. He named them all and loved them, each and every one. One day he noticed that he’d unintentionally carved the image of his son as a wolf while musing by the fire and it broke his heart. He wept over the statue, holding it to his chest and shaking with his loss. When he came to himself he realized that he’d saturated the statue with his tears, but rather than rotting the wood it had preserved it like a fine lacquer.

The woodcutter was amazed so he wrapped the carving in the cured pelt of a fox and placed it in his bed. He held it all night long, whispering his son’s name in its ear. _Cenere… Cenere… Cenere...._ In the morning, the statue was gone and he wept anew for the loss of his second son. As he was contemplating his misery a clatter reached his ears and he turned to find the statue in a new place. He ran to it and scooped it up to find its legs had become articulated!

Geppetto was amazed. He swooped it up into the air and cheered the return of his son in a new body. _Cenere! Ash! Reborn of mountain firewood!_ he cried, _Now we will be pack again!_

But the statue turned marionette wasn’t thrilled, and he squirmed and cried out and howled for freedom. Geppetto was astonished and put him down, too disheartened by his cries for freedom to keep him chained.

 _Alas_! He cried, _Again I have given life to a child who does not respect me, and wishes only to run and run! Go, my sweet cub, and taste freedom, but know that you can always come home._

Geppetto freed Ash, and he fled into the woods with a wild howl, but a few hours later the woodcutter realized that a storm was coming in. He worried that the lacquer wouldn’t be enough to preserve Ash from the damage the world would bring on him.

Ash also was afraid of the storm. He’d never heard thunder or lightening because he didn’t remember his time as a tree. He wailed as the sky screamed around him and the sky hurt his eyes. He turned and tried to find his way back home, but a wooden nose cannot sniff the way a flesh one can, so he was lost in the woods.

Ash’s weeping drew the attention of fairies in the forest, and being tricksters they promised to help him find his father. One of them told him she would be his nose, so she caught ahold of it and dragged poor Ash all through the woods. He let her because he was lost and alone and no wolf _ever_ wants to be alone- not even a wooden one with a fox pelt for fur. Finally she left him near the cottage and Ash hurried inside to find the wooden statues but no father.

 _Papa!_ Ash cried out, and began to howl in loneliness.

Geppetto heard his cries and hurried to return to him, but when he found his little cub he hardly recognized him! His nose had been stretched out, a wooden knot forming at the end from where the fairies had used him so roughly.

_Oh, my son! This is what comes of the real world! Without pack to protect and guide us we are dragged through the slime and the mud until our minds and bodies are disfigured. Stay with Papa and never stray again!_

Ash promised never to leave Geppetto’s side again, but of course the wild moon called to him as it must all in the shape of a wolf, and when the full moon came he turned to the windows in longing. Geppetto was old and the wind bit at his flesh, but he decided to lead Ash outside anyway to give the lad a taste of freedom and the rush of the hunt during a full moon. They went out together, Geppetto turning into a grey old wolf, and they ran and ran until the older wolf collapsed with exhaustion. Ash paced nearby, anxious and bored. He didn’t want to wait for Geppetto to recover. He wanted to _run_.

When Geppetto finally rose again, he turned towards the cottage and they headed home, running happily along. Ash decided it was safe to stretch his legs. They were heading home, so what harm could happen? He ran faster and faster, and Geppetto couldn’t keep up! The older wolf howled for him to slow, but the ragamuffin wouldn’t hang back. Ash ran so far and so fast, that he passed the cottage completely and soon was so far from home that he couldn’t hear his Papa’s howls.

This time no fairies came to rescue Ash- with good or ill intent. He was alone in the world, and a village was soon his only refuge from the elements. Those who saw him shrunk back in fear, for who has ever heard of a wooden wolf in a fox pelt skulking through a town proper? They hissed and threw rotten vegetables and moldy bread at him. When he asked for help they pelted him with rocks and shouted for the Huntsman!

Ash had heard tales of the Hunters from his father and fled in fear, a big, rotten tomato hanging off of his nose. When he was finally free of the hoards of humans again he stared morosely into his reflection in a pool of water to see that his elongated nose was now a brilliant shade or red as well! Ash mourned his disfigured face, for surely his father wouldn’t recognize him now! He was no longer the recreation of the pup the former alpha had lost. Despairing and certain that there was no where he could now call home, Ash traveled the world for many years doing no good and some small harm. He stole. He gamboled. He drank foul brews. He lied. He cheated. And he touched the mates of other wolves.

This last crime was to be his undoing, for the alpha of the pack rose against him in outrage. He dragged Ash to the middle of the town square, set up a stake in the ground, and burned him alive while the villagers and his devastated mate watched. The woman scooped up all the charred dust that remained of poor Ash and took him to his father; for she was the man’s daughter-in-law and the figure of Ash had so thoroughly tricked her into thinking that her injured mate was in her bed that she’d unwittingly betrayed him! She knew, however, that only a father could re-create a son so thoroughly and brought him to where he belonged at last.

Geppetto wept at her sad tale, and held the jar full of ashes in his arms as if it were his baby returned to him again.

_Oh, Ash! You had but to come home to me! No matter what you looked like, or what evils you had done, I would always have been your safe haven! But tell me, daughter-in-law how did you think him my flesh and blood son? When last I saw him he was much disfigured, and tales have it that he has been more so since._

_He had changed again_ , She told him, _When his eyes met mine his face returned to that of my beloved. I thought him healing and held him close to aid him, as a mate should. Little did I know that I lay with a false idol. I have lost all, but you have as well. Let us spend the rest of our days in solitude here where we may die in peace as the outcasts we have become._

So they spread the ashes of Sorbo Degli Uccellatori- or as we know him Mountain Ash- all around the cottage to keep him always at home but never trapped within, and returned inside the cottage to wait out the winter. However, what they did not know was that the werewolf’s son had vowed revenge on his mate and begun to hunt them. He scoured the countryside, hunting far and wide, destroying everything he touched. Except the cottage, which he could not even approach. The cottage was forever safe, and always would be, for it was surrounded by the circle of Mountain Ash who had vowed in death to always protect those within. So Mountain Ash became the protector of weak werewolves from those that would abuse the moon’s power.

XXX

Derek sat back and sipped his soda, waiting for Stiles to react. The younger man grinned from ear to ear, stood up from his seat, and walked around to grab Derek’s collar and haul him into a heated kiss.

“ _That_ was way too freaking cool, Sourwolf. You earned that kiss.”

Derek smiled from ear to ear, blushing profusely, and Stiles couldn’t help but think that it was the most genuine look he’d ever seen.

 

 

 _A/N_ Okay so… this is becoming a sort of Arabian Nights?? 


	7. Chapter 7

Note the tag changes. Any actual knotting will be in a SEPARATE chapter so those disgusted by it can skip over it. I apologize for forgetting that particular tag. 

 

Derek sits down on his couch and runs a hand over his clothed erection. He’s got Stiles on the phone and the teen is heading over, but it’s been a week since he’s seen him and Derek is aching for the real thing. Left behind clothes may help him sleep through the night, but they aren’t warm and funny with that spicy attitude.

“Stupid field trip,” Derek growled out.

“Dude, for the third time, it was an away game. And I totally sucked.”

“Mm,” Derek hummed.

“Are you being nasty again?” Stiles asked, “I specifically requested that you _not_ be nasty.”

“I’m not being nasty,” Derek replied, undoing his flies and considering if he could stay focused enough for what he wanted to do, “So… Snow White… How long do you have?”

“We’re on a bus ride home,” Stiles replied, “ETA about twenty minutes. Then I’m heading straight over to your place. I’ll shower there so you don’t go all lone wolf on me and start howling for my company and attention. Needy prick.”

Stiles showering at his place made up Derek’s mind. He shoved his boxers down and cupped his balls before reaching up to stroke his cock with a firm hand.

“Okay,” Derek stated, balancing the phone on his shoulder, “So Snow White actually took place in the Arctic.”

“YES!” Stiles ranted, “An arctic wolf! I fucking knew it!”

Derek chuckled as he took up a firm stroke on his cock. He didn’t want to be needy and horny when Stiles came over, but he also knew he had to be careful with this. He only _ever_ got turned on around Stiles anymore so he was taking advantage of the fact he’d finally sprung a stiffy when the bastard called him to whine about his trip. He had to be relieved before he got there or he’d end up humping the bathroom door or worse.

Derek let himself sink into that state he dwelled in when he told Stiles stories and worked his hand with only half a thought.

“Yes, but she wasn’t a wolf at first. She was human, but her step mother was a witch- the bad kind unfortunately. Right, so. Once upon a time…”

Derek continued to work himself fast and hard while Stiles listened to his story. The difficult part was coming up, though. His arousal was rising but he was having trouble reaching culmination. He paused in his story and questioned Stiles in order to hear his voice.

“Wait a second,” Derek insisted, “Are you going to bring that video game over again?”

“Dude, I _love_ that video game. It’s like my chew toy, to put it in wolf terms.”

“You play it for _hours_ and I can’t stand the sound effects.”

“Let me tell you the virtues of Halo 3, you son of a…”

Stiles went on a rant and Derek leaned back as he got closer and closer, fumbled for the mute button, tossed the phone down, and gripped the knot at the base of his dick _hard_. His cock pulsed and hot fluids shot out across his torso. Some of it splattered on his face and even in his hair, but the relief was so powerful that he ignored that in favor of moaning out his release. He was shaking by the time wave after wave of pleasure stopped reducing him to a whimpering mess. He grabbed the towel he’d set aside and cleaned off his hands so he could pick up the phone. It was silent. Shit.

“You there?” Derek asked after fumbling for the mute button.

“Dude, did you just mute me?” Stiles asked, “It went all quiet.”

Derek checked the phone. It was _now_ muted which meant…

Derek unmuted the phone, “So… Snow White…”

“Fuck Snow White, sounds like you’re the one covered in snow! Dude, really? While I’m on the phone? Not that that didn’t sound like the best damn orgasm ever.”

Derek smirked, “Fuck, it really was. You have no idea what your voice does to me. Especially your pissed off voice.”

“Dude you suck,” Stiles huffed in amusement, his voice saturated with amusement.

“You accuse me of sucking so often I’m starting to wonder if I’m missing your point,” Derek stated, his voice low with desire.

“Oh, wow, ummmm,” Stiles stammered, “So… do you want to shower or finish telling me about Snow White?”

“I should probably shower,” Derek admitted, “I’m drenched.”

“Okay. I’m stuck between ew and wow. Bye.”

XXX

Stiles was on the phone with Scott as he hurried up the steps to Derek’s loft for the night. He figured he didn’t have to drag Scott there if Derek was starting out satisfied.

“So then the coven leader- she’s the queen in the story- she decides she’s going to kill Snow herself since her Huntsman had fallen for her charms,” Stiles explains as they hurry up to Derek’s loft, “So she puts wolfsbane on a comb and sells it to Snow. Snow has no idea because she’s human, so she uses it, but the dwarves totally know what it is and cure her by burning all her hair off.”

“Fucking _ow_ ,” Scott groaned.

“Yeah, I know, right? So she takes some time to heal, but while she’s healing that damn witch comes back and offers her a collar to make her feel pretty while she’s all scarred up. Snow has no idea what a collar is, she figures it’s a necklace. So fucking naive. Snow feels so low about her looks she accepts it, but it’s charmed to strangle her!”

“Shit!”

“I know, right?” Stiles nods, opening up the door to Derek’s loft, “So he was about to tell me the end when he- um- he had to go. So… okay… Scott, I gotta go.”

Stiles paused in Derek’s doorway and stared around at the scene before him. Derek had finally cleaned, but he’d also redecorated while Stiles was gone. All of the walls had been painted to resemble a dark, deep forest and the kitchen had a thatch roof painted above the fridge and counter top area to make it resemble a cut-out of a cottage. One wall was still a work in progress, but some stone brickwork had been outlined.

“Whoa! Cool!” Stiles declared.

Derek walked down the spiral staircase that Stiles couldn’t help but notice was beside the sketch of what was sure to be a tower.

“So… LARP?” Stiles asked.

“What?” Derek asked, eyebrows furrowing in confusion.

“Live Action Role Play. This looks like a set for a play.”

“Hm, something like that,” Derek replied, “I figured it sets the mood and I’m enjoying it. From now on I only tell you stories here, in our own personal setting.”

“Do we get costumes?” Stiles asked innocently as he flopped down in a chair.

Derek’s eyes smoldered as he glanced at him, “Do you _want_ costumes?”

“Um… no,” Stiles replied, face turning alarmed, “No way, that’s lame. I’m not going to wear costumes. I was asking if _you_ were going to wear costumes.”

“Do you want _me_ to wear costumes?” Derek asked, his voice deepening as he took a step closer.

“Dude, you came like _three minutes ago_ , the fuck is wrong with you?” Stiles squeaked.

“Says the man who drags Scott everywhere for protection _from himself_ ,” Derek huffs, “You know most men just wear condoms.”

“I would have brought those,” Stiles replied with sass, “But I don’t think Magnum makes a werewolf size! Look, can we just go back to the _HOLY SHIT IT’S BACK.”_

Derek sighed as he sat down in his chair and gave Stiles a frustrated glare, “Yes, Stiles. It’s called a penis. You have one as well and it also acts up when you don’t want it to. I know this because I can _smell it_ no matter how well you keep it hidden. So stop being a spaz so I can finish the story.”

“Fine. What was the third trick?”

“A piece of meat with broken fragments of bone wrapped in leaves inside of it,” Derek replied, “It’s how indigenous people dealt with wolves and werewolves alike centuries ago. The meat was digested and the bone fragments would tear up their intestines leaving them to bleed to death from the inside out. Sometimes poison was added. So. What the witch hadn’t realized was that Snow was such a dainty eater compared to the wolves she was used to dealing with. Instead of swallowing the little meat morsels whole she chewed them, which cut up her gums and tongue. She fled from the witch, her mouth bleeding profusely, and soon passed out from the blood loss. The dwarves found her, but the bits of bone were lodged in her pallet and throat so she was unable to properly heal. The dwarves had no idea what had caused her to be ill since she just kept swallowing the blood and never woke up to tell them, so they never saw it. As far as they knew she was just slowly wilting before their eyes.”

“Oh, shit,” Stiles whispered, leaning forward on the edge of his chair, “So… the prince?”

“Yes,” Derek smiled, “The prince- who in this story is an alpha wolf. He smells his mate and follows the scent blindly to her side. The dwarves had laid her out in a beautiful casket made of diamonds. They were petting her hand and mourning her slow death, planning on making a monument of her tomb so they could cherish her forever. The werewolf realized that he would never get close to them as a wolf so he changed himself into a human.”

Derek stood up from where he sat and motioned to the couch, “Lie down. I want this kiss in character.”

Stiles gave the couch a wary look, “That’s your usual spot. I know what you did and it was probably in your usual spot.”

“I cleaned it up. Lie down.”

Stiles sighed and laid down on the couch, giving the back a curious sniff. He was thankful he didn’t have the nose of a werewolf.

“Okay, go,” Stiles stated, folding his hands over his chest and closing his eyes.

Derek growled low, loving the sight of Stiles stretched out for him on the couch.

“So,” He swallowed a few times, “So… originally werewolves weren’t what they are today. They were super-intelligent wolves who could turn into a lupine standing form on the full moon only. They had no human form. They were the next evolutionary stage of wolves, some say today. However, the prince was the first to have a human for a mate and he refused to lose his chance at happiness due to his form. He forced his body to change, focusing every ounce of his willpower and using the power of the full moon to draw the hair into his body and his teeth into his mouth. He reshaped his jaw and broke off his claws. He screamed in pain throughout the transformation, and the dwarves hovered in terror at the sound. Finally one of them decided that whatever creature was screaming so _must_ be put out of it’s misery. To leave it to suffer was cruel beyond measure. They set out, leaving only a few to guard Snow’s grave, to find the creature and either kill or heal it.”

“Oh, wow,” Stiles breathed, eyes fluttering but remaining closed, “He suffered for her before he even knew her name.”

“Mates are important to us,” Derek whispered, “They are everything.”

Derek cleared his throat and continued, “They found the wolf as a naked man, laying in a clearing and sobbing with pain. He was drenched in blood and shaking, but healing quickly. They put him in some clothes- which fit horribly but were probably tight as hell around his ass.”

Stiles barked out a laugh and shifted on the couch a bit before nodding his head and replying with a bit of arousal in his tone, “Go on.”

“So they carried the injured ‘wolf towards their cabin, but as they got nearer he was spurred on by the scent of Snow nearby. He knew she was bleeding and begged them to take him to her, but he knew no words so he could only whine and throw out his hand in the direction he knew she was in. One of the dwarves saw the longing in his eyes and carried him to her side, lowering him down on his knees by her casket. The alpha leaned forward…”

Derek knelt by the couch and leaned over Stiles, breathing in his scent along his neck and jaw. Stiles’ neck arched and he swallowed hard, squirming in the couch in longing. His scent spiked sharply and Derek growled low as Stiles’ body began to reek of desire. Derek dragged his nose along Stiles jaw and rubbed the side against his nose. Stiles’ lips fell open and Derek spoke against his lips without pressing down.

“Then he let his teeth drop down and ripped open her throat to pull the barbs from her flesh.”

Stiles choked and Derek sat back with a wicked smile on his face, “The dwarves turned on him in outrage beating him halfway to death. They threw him into a gorge and left him to die, but when they returned to Snow’s side she was healing! They were amazed when she opened her eyes and wrapped her in blankets. They held her and petted her and told her they cherished her,” Derek whispered, stroking Stiles’ hair lovingly as he stared up at him with wide eyes, “When she was finally able to speak she whispered that she could smell something so, so beautiful and she _needed_ it.”

“Her alpha,” Stiles replied, shifting on the couch and gripping the fabric with both hands.

“Yes,” Derek replied with a nod, “Her alpha. Her mate. Her future. She pined for him for days, not knowing what she wanted or missed but always needing it. They could see that she wanted something, but neither she nor they knew what it was. They had never denied her anything in all the years she had lived with them and it made their hearts break to see their precious Snow so devastated with longing.”

“The next full moon,” Stiles replied, trying to sit up. Derek pushed him back down.

“The next full moon came and before their very eyes Snow transformed into a beautiful snow-white wolf… covered in women’s clothing.”

Stiles laughed and Derek chuckled, ducking his head in amusement, “They had to cut her from her corsets, but once they did they opened the door and tearfully let her run free. They knew she would come back to them- they were her pack- but they also knew that someone out there was waiting for their beautiful snow white wolf and they couldn’t deny her. She howled in the night and an answering howl responded. The dwarf who had seen the look in the alphas eyes gasped. He knew that sound. It was hopeful instead of in pain, but he recognized it nonetheless. The man who they’d rescued, who had betrayed them but healed Snow somehow, was alive and calling for her. He wept the hardest of the dwarves then, because he knew that they were destined to be together forever and he… he had loved her, too.”

“Oh,” Stiles breathed, blinking rapidly to hide the moisture in his eyes, “What… what happened to him?”

“No idea,” Derek replied sadly, “He probably died alone.”

“You’re an ass,” Stiles shoved at his shoulder.

Derek smiled and laughed, and Stiles stayed laying on the sofa. He put one arm above his head and arched a bit, eyes hopeful and full of longing. Derek smiled and leaned forward; he paused only a moment to give Stiles time to push him away, and then gently caressed their lips together. Stiles’ lips parted and he gasped a bit and then leaned up and pushed firmly against Derek’s mouth with his own, their teeth knocking together. Derek pulled back and laughed a bit, catching the back of his head and turning his own so they could slot together properly. Their tongues caressed and Stiles went limp, his head heavy in Derek’s hand as he worked him hungrily.

Derek heard his hand shift, but didn’t realize Stiles was touching himself until he whined low in his throat. Derek pulled back and watched as Stiles rubbed at his crotch frantically. He was flushed and squirming on the couch, his eyes slightly glazed.

“Derek. Fuck. Fire. So hot. _Fuck!”_

“Shh, let me,” Derek whispered, reaching down to move his shaking hand. He undid Stiles’ fly pushed the flap of his fly open, and took his long, slim cock in hand. Derek skimmed his hand over his member and Stiles arched, his mouth falling open in shock. He cried out and thrashed on the couch, scratching at the fabric with ineffective fingernails, “Yes, that’s it. Do you feel it? That thrumming beneath your skin? It’s your soul calling to mine, Stiles. I’m yours and you _are_ mine.”

Derek’s hand was moving faster and Stiles’ eyes had fallen shut. His mouth was open as he gasped for air and then he was pulsing in Derek’s hand. He leaned over and opened his mouth, not willing to cross the boundary by _actually_ putting his mouth on Stiles without his permission, and caught a spurt on his tongue. To Derek’s shock his vision whited out and he grunted as he came hard in his pants. He leaned back and licked his lips happily, humming in approval as he smiled down at Stiles’ satisfied form on the couch.

“Oh my gods,” Stiles gasped, rocking from side to side on the couch and staring up at Derek in shock, “Oh my fucking gods. I… I can’t feel my legs.”

Derek laughed slightly, shaking his head in amusement, “You’re so funny, and you’re beautiful when you come.”

Derek leaned down and caught his lower lip in a gentle bite since Stiles was too busy recovering from his overwhelming orgasm to pucker up. He worried it for a moment and Stiles whined a bit. Derek leaned back and smiled down at him fondly, licking off his hand.

“Ew. Weird. Isn’t that gross?”

“Your semen?” Derek raised an eyebrow, “It’s delicious. I love it. Salty and you.”

“It’s all goopy and… ew.”

“You ever tried it,” Derek smirked slowly.

“Yes,” Stiles replied, blushing brightly, “Is that weird?”

“No,” Derek replied, “I got some in my mouth when I came all over myself to the sound of you ranting about Halo.”

“Oh,” Stiles’ eyes widened, “Did you brush your teeth afterwards? Because your tongue was kinda in my mouth.”

“Sadly, yes,” Derek sighed, “I wanted to be minty fresh for my Snow White kiss.”

“You mean _bite_ ,” Stiles replied with a grimace, “What the fuck?”

“He saved her life.”

“He ripped out her throat.”

“It’s romantic to werewolves.”

“See, that sounds really scary to us humans.”

“Humans are weak and need us to guard them,” Derek growled, leaning over Stiles and letting his eyes flash, “Maybe I should tell you about Rapunzel next.”

“Two stories in one night? I dunno, Der, what’s your refractory period?” Stiles gave the damp spot on his trousers a glance.

Derek laughed and shook his head, “Oh, I can get it up again, but I don’t want to seem easy. You might lose respect for me.”

Derek stood up while Stiles laughed, “You’re easy, all right. Wait, what are we talking about? I think you short circuited my brain.”

“I’m going to go shower- again- and consider investing in a better water heater since you’re completely destroying my ability to glance at you without turning into a pile of sexually frustrated goo.”

“Goo,” Stiles snickered, reaching for his bag to change his shirt.

Derek left with a grin on his face and hope in his heart. Stiles had been _beautiful_ beneath him. Soft and strong all at once, and Derek wasn’t lying about what it had been like to taste his spunk. Derek was rapturous. He wanted to celebrate, so he stood in the shower and sang on the top of his lungs. When he came out Stiles was snickering to himself and he could hear Scott on the other end laughing as well.

“What’s so funny?” Derek asked, posing contentedly in nothing but a towel and expecting Stiles to swoon at the sight of water dripping down his defined pecks.

Derek’s smile vanished as he heard Scott start singing the song Derek had just been belting out in the shower while Stiles laughed his ass off.

“ _Stiles!”_ Derek roared.


	8. Chapter 8

Stiles stood stock still as the paintbrush ran over his skin, gasping in excitement. It’s every wet caress was a cold mirror to the hot touch his body had played across Stiles. He was hard and aching as Derek turned him from a young man into a tower with his paints, adding lights and darks along the sharp edges. Stiles looked down to see that instead of feet he had roots like a tree growing into the floor of the loft.

Derek raised his eyes to Stiles’ face and slowly stood up, revealing that he wasn’t just shirtless, he was completely naked and absolutely gorgeous. His cock was thick and twitching for him.

“Now I’m going to climb you,” Derek promised.

Stiles woke up with a gasp, his cock throbbing in his boxers like they had every morning since that very first kiss. Derek somehow made him wild and hornier than puberty even had. The problem was that every morning found him no relief. He had to take matters into his own hand and that was becoming less and less satisfying. He was starting to think that Derek’s claim that humans couldn’t feel the pull of a mate was as mythological as his fairy tales. Stiles took himself to his laptop and fired it up, pulling up porn site after porn site until he found something that worked for him.

A large, muscular man had a slim one bent over his knees and was spanking him soundly while he moaned and wriggled in his lap, humping his thigh. Stiles was quickly jacking off, eager for the release that he needed.

A voice reached his ear and he jumped out of the chair and spun around.

“Is that what you want me to do?” Derek purred. He was standing by the window, arms folded and eyes smoldering, “Spank you like the naughty boy you are? Was that why you wanted a safety word? Or would you prefer something a bit more real.”

“Real?” Stiles choked out, his cock so hard it hurt.

Derek walked forward and Stiles immediately recalled how he _had to get control of this_. He’d let Derek go too far last time and he couldn’t let it happen again.

“I could chain you to the roof of my loft,” Derek growled, approaching him slowly enough that he ignored the longing to bolt either towards or away from him, “Run my hands over every inch of you. Put a few bruises on just to give your pale skin some color. Would you like that, Stiles?”

Stiles swallowed hard, his desire warring with the fear of losing another loved one that swelled up inside of him like bile. It was like a glass of cold water splashed in his face and he closed his eyes and shook his head.

“No,” Stiles stated, and opened his eyes, blinking back tears.

“No?” Derek blinked, stepping back and sniffing at the air in surprise, “Shit. Stiles. I didn’t mean to scare… I was just… Fuck,” Derek turned and leaped back out his window, leaving Stiles with a few choked words on his tongue before he could manage to explain that he was _himself_ he was afraid of.

XXX

Derek ran until the pain of frightening his mate lessened enough to still his legs. Then he knelt down and pulled on his hair and clawed at his flesh, throwing his head back and howling out his misery. He couldn’t understand why this wasn’t working. Mates were supposed to be together. He was trying to show that to Stiles through the stories, but he wasn’t getting through. He _knew_ Stiles found him attractive, he could smell the lust, but Stiles was also so very frightened.

 _All because he’s an Emissary_ …

Derek froze, his thought’s suddenly clarifying. It wasn’t Stiles he had to win over, it was the _magic_ inside of him. The magic that he believed had killed his mother- whether that was true or not. Derek had to pull Stiles out of his fears and show him how to control it. That it could help people. If he didn’t then his life wouldn’t be worth living.

Derek took himself to Deaton’s and stood outside his gate waiting for permission to enter. Deaton gave him a warning glance and then welcomed him in, motioning for Derek to enter his exam room. Derek stepped in and took a deep breath before explaining his reasoning. He started at the beginning, giving Deaton every bit of information he could. His time telling stories with Stiles was helping. He’d never opened up well but here he was pouring out Stiles and his own story as if it were a legend to be told. When he was done Deaton looked deeply concerned.

“And he’s back to pushing you away?” Deaton asked.

“I don’t think he’ll ever stop,” Derek replied, “Scott tells me he doesn’t believe Stiles is responsible for his mother’s death, and that he had therapy to deal with these thoughts years ago. Apparently it didn’t work. So what do you say?”

“I’d say it sounds pretty bad, Derek. Do you think there’s a chance he’ll outright reject you?”

“I doubt it,” Derek replied, “He’s terrified of ‘murdering’ someone again, but I meant about training him.”

“Stiles has refused training, as you’re well aware.”

“Yeah, but… he’s possibly a danger to himself and others,” Derek pointed out, “And this is stopping us from completing our bond.”

“That’s beside the point,” Deaton replied, “My arts can’t be forced on someone, Derek. You know that.”

“Well then you can talk to him-“

“Something I’ve done many times.”

“Without the full story!”

“I knew most of what you told me in advance, Derek,” Deaton replied sadly, “Stiles is a very unstable young man. That’s why the nogitsune picked him in the first place. He’s not going to just change his mind. I doubt training him would help anyway.”

“Because he didn’t actually kill her,” Derek nodded, “That’s what I thought.”

“That’s not what I said,” Deaton replied, walking away to fetch something from a cabinet, “Emissaries are meant to be the balance between wolf packs and nature since both of our races are tied in very closely to both the material world and the earth. It’s entirely possible that Stiles sensed an imbalance in his mother, that she was fighting to stay past her time, and instinctively ended her life to maintain that balance.”

“No. No, Stiles isn’t a murderer.”

“It isn’t murder if it’s done out of kindness,” Deaton replied, placing a box down in front of himself, “Or because it’s required to keep the balance.”

Deaton opened the box and Derek stared inside. There were an assortment of teeth within, and a quick sniff told him they were both human and wolf, “What’s with the teeth?”

“All the innocent lives I’ve had to take,” Deaton replied sadly, “Sometimes people really _are_ just in the wrong place at the wrong time.”

“He was just a kid,” Derek pleaded.

“Tell _him_ that.”

“I have. Scott has. John Stilinski has. Stiles’ _therapist_ has. He won’t believe us.”

“He won’t budge on anything, it sounds like, and you’re sure you can’t manage a platonic relationship?”

“No,” Derek growled, pacing angrily, “Stubborn little shit. I can’t even _sleep_ without his scent at least! It’s a living hell!”

“Then it sounds to me,” Deaton paused and gave Derek a pained look, “It sounds to me like you only have one option left.”

“What’s that?” Derek replied, turning to him with a feeling of dread in his stomach.

“Reject your mate,” Deaton replied so softly that only Derek’s hearing could catch it.

“What? No. No, why would I do that? I’d die,” Derek protested weakly.

“Yes, but you’d have relief first, and you made it pretty clear during your tale of woe that you’re getting fed up with living like this, that death might be preferable. Unless I misunderstood?”

Derek shook his head, but it wasn’t in denial of Deaton’s words, and the man clearly knew that. Derek turned away, walking a few steps and rubbing at his face.

“He’ll never accept me.”

“It doesn’t seem like he will.”

“We’ll always be in this horrible limbo. Touching but never satisfying. Close but never bonded. Me loving him and him pushing me away.”

“Unless there’s something you haven’t told me?” Deaton asked hopefully.

“No,” Derek turned to him, “Nothing. There’s no hope and… gods, I can feel it. You’re right. It’s my only option left and my wolf is already taking it. I haven’t even said the words and I’ve already…”

Derek swallowed hard, fighting down tears. Deaton crossed to him and put a supportive hand on his shoulder.

“I’m so sorry, Derek,” Deaton told him, giving him a tortured look, “This isn’t the end I wanted for your pack. It wasn’t what was supposed to happen. Fate doesn’t always go according to plan.”

Derek nodded, not trusting his voice.

“Are there any last wishes or rights you want me to see to?” Deaton asked.

“Jesus,” Derek pulled away and faced the wall, rubbing at his eyes and fighting down the urge to curl up and sob.

“I know it’s harsh, Derek, but we don’t know how much time you have left. Stiles at least should be told that this wasn’t his fault.”

“Yes,” Derek turned to him quickly, “Yes, tell him that. Right away if I don’t get the chance.”

“Okay, good,” Deaton nodded, glad Derek wasn’t avoiding this anymore, “What else? Your family still has a lot of land in its name, and the vaults to consider.”

“Cora gets the vaults,” Derek replied, “I’d never keep them from her. I haven’t got the right. If something happens to her and she hasn’t had any kids to will them to then they go to Scott. The land goes to him right away. His pack more than deserves it.”

“I’ll make sure the documents are drawn up by the end of today,” Deaton told him, “Will you be available to sign… barring the worst?”

“That won’t be necessary,” Derek replied, “I had it all drawn up already. My family’s lawyer will contact you and Scott when the time comes.”

“Any last rights, Derek? As your Emissary you have the right to request a ceremony from me in any context you wish.”

Derek nodded, hands on his hips as he soldiered through the conversation, “Um, yeah. A funeral. A human styled one. It’s not for me, it’s for… he said he’d mourn me… I just want to get it over for him.”

Derek couldn’t even say his name, and that was the stone that finally broke the dam. The floodgates opened and Derek put one hand over his eyes as he choked on his sobs. Deaton pulled him into his arms and hugged him tightly while the last member of Talia’s family- who hadn’t turned their back on the Hale name- mourned his own death.

XXX

Derek’s muscles rippled as he ran the paintbrush over the wall. He was covered in paint and Stiles was stretched out on the couch like that chick from Titanic. _Paint me like one of your werewolves_. Except Derek wasn’t painting _Stiles_ , he was painting a tower on the wall behind his spiral staircase while telling him an elaborate tale about Rapunzel… who was a dude. The first time the protagonist was a dude in the stories Derek had told so far.

Rapunzel was a kitsune with a long, long, long, tail instead of several regular ones. It was big and beautiful and bushy and his mother hid him away to avoid his shameful tail being seen by other kitsune. Except that wolves didn’t care how many tails you had so when an alpha strolled through the woods (it was always an alpha, just like it was always a prince in Disney) he couldn’t give a fuck.

Actually, he was hot and bothered by that tail and instead of climbing it the first time he convinced Rapunzel to throw it down he humped it and came all over it. Rapunzel then gave him a piece of his mind and made him wash it that led to a fantastic hand job… for Rapunzel only. Stiles refused to let Derek touch him again, so he’d started painting to alleviate his frustration. So now he was finishing his tower while talking about the next part of the story.

“So did werewolves ever have a problem with two guys being together? I mean, you can’t exactly mate, can you?”

“Some can,” Derek shrugged, “Just like we found a way to grow flesh to have human mates some find a way to have cubs. I’ve never really wanted kids… just a pack, which I have now thanks to you. Scott’s been treating me like his beta lately. It’s been… nice.”

Derek gave him a cautious glance, trying to decide if now was the time to tell Stiles, but he waved a hand at him to continue so he turned back to his painting.

“Rapunzel,” Derek whispered.

Scott- their cheerful chaperone- was back from the bathroom and he flopped down, “Yeah, Rapunzel!”

Derek sighed, “Rapunzel fell hard for the wolf, and they soon realized that while they might not be mates they _were_ deeply in love. A love that was so powerful they were sure they could cross the boundary between fox and wolf.”

“Do all wolves have a mate?” Scott asked.

“Yes, but not all of them ever meet,” Derek replied, “Or they do but don’t bond, or they bond but not sexually. Shhh.”

“So,” Derek continued, “They met secretly for some months, making love and holding each other on a bed made of Rapunzel’s long, glorious tail.”

“The tail sounds hot,” Scott whispered. Derek and Stiles both shushed him.

“Then the worst thing they could ever have imagined happened. His mother found out. She returned early from a trip to town with a present for her son and found them saying goodbye to each other in the window. She was so enraged that her child could love a _wolf_ that she vowed to end his life in the most brutal way possible. She waited until the alpha was gone and entered the tower as if everything were normal… and then threw her son to the ground and sliced off his tail at the joint.”

“Oh, fuck!” Stiles winced.

“She then hid her son away in a far off kingdom, forcing him to live in a filthy hut and scavenge for food himself as payment for his crime. He had never had to care for himself, never even been on a hunt, so it was devastatingly difficult and he was hard pressed to survive. When it became clear that he was pregnant he changed into human form, disguised himself as a girl and fled to the nearest town. There he became a seamstress and hid amongst the people from even his mother.

“Meanwhile, the alpha returned and smelled blood. Fearing for his love, he climbed the tail without a thought to what he might find at the top. He was stabbed through the heart with a dagger when he reached the window, and fell fifty feet to his death.”

“What… no!” Stiles choked out, “No, he lives, but he’s blind, and Rapunzel’s tears cure him!”

“Are you telling the story, or am I?”

“This one sucks!” Stiles shouted.

“So Rapunzel,” Derek turned back to his painting, “Unaware of his lost love’s death, goes on to birth a beautiful litter of kitsune-fox cubs. He called their breed coyote, and so created the first coyote in the world. They were beautiful, strong like a wolf and sleek like a fox. They could jump high and run fast. They were beautiful and perfect and he loved them with all his heart.”

“Okay, a little better,” Stiles whined.

Derek put the finishing touches on the tower and stepped back to admire it, putting down his easel and taking his brushes to the sink to wash. Stiles waited, sniffling a bit, while Derek washed them, and then squirmed closer to Scott when Derek sat down on the couch. Derek stared at his tower as he continued the story in a softer voice.

“Rapunzel returned to the original town, though it took far longer with three children and no magic. He searched high and low but found no sign of his lost love. It broke his heart and for many years he loved only his children. He blamed himself for the alphas absence, sure that his mother had done him some harm or at least chased him off. It wasn’t until he met his mother again years later that he finally made peace with himself. He heard the tale of his lover’s death and killed his mother in a blind rage. When he returned to his children that night it was with acceptance in his heart. He had righted the wrong in the world, but by killing his own mother he had committed a terrible crime as a kitsune. Since his tail was gone, so was his magic, but his people had to render a sentence.

The kitsune people decided that the crime was to _give_ Rapunzel back his magic… along with a great deal of responsibility. Rapunzel became the first emissary, a guardian of balance, and was charged with a pack in the town he had birthed his children in. He returned there- to what is now America- to raise his children and keep the balance between nature and magic from tipping again.”

“That was sad,” Scott frowned, “Did he ever love again?”

“I’d like to believe so,” Derek said softly.

“That’s nicer than you were when I asked that about Snow White’s dwarf,” Stiles grumbled.

“Stiles, I need to talk to you. In private.”

“Nope,” Stiles replied sharply.

“I really do,” Derek replied, “I won’t touch you or even flirt, I swear.”

His face must have been serious enough to convince Stiles, because he nodded and followed Derek to his bedroom. There he stood stiffly, arms folded over his chest as he studied Derek.

“I’m not sending Scott home tonight. We’re having a slumber party and that’s all there is to it.”

“Actually, you can go, too.”

“What?” Stiles asked, blinking in surprise.

“I reject you as my mate, Stiles,” Derek replied, and marveled that the words rolled off his tongue so easily.

“What?!” Stiles sputtered arms coming down and waving furiously, “You can’t! You’ll die!”

“I know,” Derek replied, smiling softly, “But that’s what I want. It’s okay, Stiles. This isn’t your fault. I think maybe… maybe I wasn’t meant to have survived the fire. Maybe this is to restore the balance. I’ve done nothing but disturb things here at Beacon Hills since ret-“

Stiles grabbed his shoulders and kissed him, but the burning sensation was gone… at least for Derek. Stiles stepped back with heat in his eyes and a flush to his cheeks, but Derek just shook his head.

“It’s too late. My wolf’s agreed. I have nothing left for you. It’s better if you leave before I hurt you more than I already have.”

Stiles stepped back, hurt shining in his eyes and his breathing fast, “No. No, you can’t. I won’t let you.”

“It’s already done,” Derek replied, “You’re human so you’ll be okay. I’ll die within a year. Probably less. I’ve already made all the arrangements. Scott probably overheard this, but I’m going to go talk to him now anyway. He’s my alpha so… yeah. I need to talk to him. Could you wait outside?”

“You’re just… dismissing me?!” Stiles choked out, tears running down his cheeks.

“Yeah,” Derek nodded opening his bedroom door, “I am.”

A/N aaaaaahhh I promise a happy ending. It’s already half written so I know it’s happening.  


	9. Chapter 9

Scott was in tears when he was through talking to Derek, but rather than accept Stiles’ bro hug he gave him an angry glare and headed straight for the jeep. Stiles climbed in and they drove in partial silence- meaning Stiles kept trying to talk and Scott kept ignoring him.

“So, think you can talk Derek out of this? … Man, he was really weird back there, huh? … So he says it’s not my fault… um… We should probably talk to Deaton or find Cora or something… So how about that meet coming up, huh?”

“Stiles, just stop,” Scott growled out.

“Yeah, you know what? I didn’t reject him. I fucking _didn’t_. I tried. I was there every three days on the dot with the exception of our meet week. I let him snuggle me. He _snores_ , Scott. Worse than you. Well, not worse than when you had asthma and a cold. I was plain as day with him, I didn’t lead him on, I-“

“I know, Stiles,” Scott growled, his voice gone gravely.

“So why are you so pissed off at me?”

“Just drive and shut up,” Scott snarled.

“Asshole,” Stiles snapped out, but he continued on to his place where Scott’s bike was parked anyway.

Scott got out of the car, but instead of going towards his bike he stomped into his house. Stiles took his time climbing out of his car and locating his bags. He figured Scott needed a bit of time to calm down. What he didn’t expect was for his father to be standing in the doorway as he approached.

“What’s up?” Stiles asked, eyebrows furrowed.

“We need to talk, son,” His father stated, eyes tense with worry.

“Scott, what did you do?” Stiles asked, giving him a shocked look.

“You still blame yourself for your mom’s death and-“ Scott started.

“Fuck you!” Stiles snapped, “Fuck you both, and Derek Hale, too!”

Stiles turned to storm to his room, but his father grabbed his arm. Stiles went still. He was too afraid of his magic flaring out of control. He could already feel it simmering under his skin and it was frightening. Stiles took a deep breath and let it out slowly.

“Come and sit down, son,” John said softly, “We need to talk.”

“There’s nothing to talk about,” Stiles growled out, “I’m going to my room and you two are going to hell.”

“Stiles,” John insisted as he pulled away and walked up the steps, “I just don’t want to see you hurting anymore. Can you at least tell me _why_ this is coming up again?”

“No!” Stiles snapped, slamming his bedroom door and flopping down on the bed.

Scott followed him. Of course he did.

“Damn it, Stiles!” Scott raged while Stiles’ father came up behind him looking cross but uncertain if he should intervene, “You’re throwing away a lifetime of happiness because of something that _didn’t even happen_! She died because she was _sick_. That’s not your fault! But Derek? Derek’s going to die because you can’t commit to him and you know what? That _is_ going to be your fault!”

“He rejected me!” Stiles shouted, sitting up and raging at him.

“Because you were leaving him hanging in limbo! He’s fucking _in love_ with you! You’re all he talks about! He’s making up those stupid stories for you!”

“Making up…” Stiles blinked.

“There _are_ no werewolf versions of fairy tales, Stiles,” Scott told him, his face twisted in pain, “He was using them to get closer to you. He wanted to make himself more intriguing because he didn’t think you’d spare him the time of day without some incentive. He was also trying to _tell you shit_ with the stories. Like that being an emissary is okay.”

“He had no right,” Stiles ground out, fighting back tears, “That was _my_ secret.”

“Yeah, well cat’s out of the bag and you’re supposed to be _my_ emissary. Deaton’s going to leave Beacon Hills when Derek dies. He’s told me as much. Our pack will be royally fucked if you don’t get your head out of your ass. You didn’t kill your _mom_.”

“Even Deaton wasn’t sure,” Stiles told him, wiping his nose on his sleeve.

“So what?” John stated firmly.

“What?” Stiles gave him a horrified look, “So what? I might have killed my mother and you say _so what?”_

“She was in horrific _pain_ , Stiles. Terrible, horrible pain. I was working overtime to avoid seeing it. I left her there, missing me, wanting comfort, with her frightened kid in the room, because I couldn’t stand to see her hurting and know I couldn’t do a damn thing about it. If I can live with the guilt of abandoning her then you can live with the guilt of having _maybe_ sped up her death to spare her pain.”

Stiles closed his eyes, “I just wanted to be able to go play with my friends.”

“You were a _kid_ ,” John sat down at the foot of his bed and gave his ankle a squeeze, “Of course you just wanted to go play. You probably weren’t really aware of how permanent her death was going to be, of how much it would change our lives. You had no reason to really comprehend that, Stiles. You wanted your friends and T.V. and candy, just like any other kid. Your mom loved that about you. How you wanted to be around your friends constantly, how you always had something smart to say after watching those science shows. She was so sure you’d be a scientist. I guess a witch or whatever is close.”

Stiles sobbed out a laugh, “Emissary. It’s like a modern day druid.”

“That’s real nice, son. You still have to go to church on Sunday,” John told him.

Stiles laughed. They hadn’t gone to church on Sunday since his mother got into a horrible fight with the pastor’s wife because Stiles had wanted to teach the kids a lesson during children’s hour and they’d told him he wasn’t allowed even though he’d had it all planned out and it was _good_. After that they’d had a sort of meditation time at home instead, and his dad always managed to make it, even if it was by sitting on the foot of his son’s bed at 11:59PM Saturday night, in the dark and with Stiles snoring away, so he didn’t miss it before going in for another shift at work. He’d leave a note and remind Stiles not to miss _his_ ‘church’ time either.

“Look,” John stated, rubbing his shoulder, “I can’t make the pain you feel from losing your mom go away. I wouldn’t want to either, because I won’t erase her like that, but you can’t stop living your life. Scott says you and this werewolf are mates? That it’s something like soulmates? That true?”

Stiles shut his eyes and nodded, sobbing brokenly, “He completes me and I _hate_ that. I don’t want to need anyone. What if he dies? Or I do and then he does?”

“What if you don’t ever live?” John asked, “Stiles, what if neither of you _ever live_? What then?”

Stiles crawled forward and curled against his father like a child, sobbing brokenly while his dad held him tightly and rubbed his back.

“It’s not too late,” Scott said softly from the doorway, “He said a rejection can be reversed, but… he wouldn’t tell me how. You should go to Deaton.”

Stiles sat up, rubbing at his face miserably, “He doesn’t want me anymore.”

“He _does_ ,” Scott huffed, “Damn it, Stiles. He’s in love with you! His wolf is accepting death over a future with you because it hasn’t worked out. He doesn’t _want_ to die. He told me that. Jesus, he cried in my arms! This is seriously fucked up and he needs you!”

Derek walked through the library, collecting book after book and taking his time to breathe in the scent of them as he moved along. His phone vibrated in his pocket so he answered it without looking, expecting a pack member or perhaps Cora since he’d tried to get word to her.

“Dude, where are you?” Stiles’ voice cut like a knife and for a moment Derek couldn’t breath. It still hurt. So, so much. He’d only lost the pull, not the underlying attraction and the _intense_ longing that every wolf had to be loved, “Hello? You there? Der?”

“Stiles,” Derek choked out, then took a deep breath and tried again, “Stiles, what do you want?”

“Duh. More stories. You promised me stories for kisses, remember?”

“I don’t want anymore kisses,” Derek replied softly.

“So we’ll arrange something else,” Stiles replied, “What do you want?”

_More years to do things right instead of fumbling around like an idiot. Time to read every book in this library and then move on to the next. Your scent to never leave my pillow. A thousand sunsets and sunrises and rainy days and new moons and full moons and-_

“You there?” Stiles asked.

“For now,” Derek sighed, “Look, this is hard enough. I’d rather not see you.”

“What, at all? Ever again?”

“Maybe just for a while until I adjust to not having you as my mate.”

“Will you _die_ in that span of time?”

“Possibly.”

“Then no, dude. No way. That’s lame.”

Derek hung up. He took a few steadying breaths and then continued until he had all the books he’d been wanting to read. He headed to the counter and plopped them down.

“How late are you open today?”

“Just until five,” The librarian told him with a warm smile, giving him a once over that told him she was completely free afterwards.

“Okay, and when do you open tomorrow?”

“Noon.”

“Hm,” Derek frowned, “Where’s the next closest library and what are their hours?”

She told him and he found he wasn’t thrilled with those answers either. He thanked her and wandered away with his books, intending on camping out so he could read as much as possible and then only check out what he hadn’t finished. He was just considering breaking into the library overnight- or finding a book store- when the phone went off again.

It was Deaton.

“Heads up,” Deaton said, and then promptly hung up.

“The fuck?”

XXX

Stiles stormed Deaton’s office and put his laptop down on his exam table, “Okay, so I tried to start a list of things I need to know about being an Emissary, but then I realized I have no fucking clue what you do. So let’s start there. What are the specific duties of an Emissary?”

“At the moment?” Deaton sighed, snapping on some gloves, “To get out of my patient’s way.”

Scott led a dog in and Stiles hurried to get out of his way because he was possibly larger than Stiles was by mass if not shape.

Scott gave him an encouraging glance, so there was that.

“Um, right, so work and talk,” Stiles stated, moving off to the side and securing a spot at Deaton’s desk, “Emissary. Duties. Go.”

“Why are you here, Stiles?” Deaton asked plainly, “And what does it have to do with Emissaries?”

“But I _am_ the Emissary,” Stiles stated in a false English accent.

“You have the ability to be an Emissary, but it has a lot more to do with your heart than your abilities. Some of the best Emissaries I’ve ever known had very little actual power. You have a lot of unharnessed raw power, but no direction or focus. Has that changed?”

“Yes,” Stiles stated, his voice softening as he turned serious, “I need to do this. I have to learn to control my abilities _fast_.”

“Why?”

“So I can be Derek’s mate.”

“I was under the impression that Derek’s wolf had rejected you,” Deaton replied, checking the dog-bear’s ears.

“Yes, but… Scott said it’s reversible…”

“Yes, it is, but you don’t need magic to win Derek over.”

“Well, no but…”

“He probably wouldn’t survive long enough on his own if you put off wooing him for your false fears about your abilities.”

“But you said…”

“Considering the fact that he’s already on his death bed- as it were- aren’t you prioritizing a bit poorly? He either dies by your hands or… he dies by your inactivity.”

Stiles sat stock still in Deaton’s chair, his face pale and his eyes turning to Scott for support. Scott gave him a level glance, lips firmly pressed together, and petted the leviathan as if it weren’t big enough to swallow him hole.

“He’s right, Stiles. Stop procrastinating. You’re either with Derek or not with him. Make a stand or back off and let him die in peace.”

Stiles shut his computer and stared at the icon on the top as it dimmed and brightened. The dog vomited loudly all over the floor and Deaton’s shoes. He petted the dog and told it everything was going to be okay, not even slightly upset about having partially digested dog food from a domesticated furry dragon all over his nice loafers.

 _I wish someone would comfort_ me _like that. Besides my dad. Who is currently too busy to cuddle his 18 year old hysterical son._

His mind flashed over Derek, who had held him tightly all night long during their ‘slumber parties’. Derek who had thought up deep and provocative stories to court Stiles because he knew he needed to engage his mind. Derek who had painted his entire loft to look like a fairy tale land so Stiles could focus on it without his ADHD making him crazier than necessary. Derek who wanted to touch him, kiss him, _everything_ him, despite his lanky body and uncontrollable mouth, and still wasn’t hesitant to call him on his shit.

Stiles packed up his laptop and hurried away, getting into his jeep and driving as fast as safety would allow to the nearest shops. After a few hours of perusing them and buying what he needed he headed to Derek’s loft.

It was empty.

XXX

Derek was curled up in a chair in the library reading by the light of his phone’s flashlight app. He’d read six books so far, one of them on how to write your own book so he could write down his stories for Stiles. He hoped the young man would read them to Scott’s children some day. Derek sighed happily at the thought of Stiles surrounded by children. He couldn’t really see Stiles having his own, but he could readily imagine him being the best damn uncle Stiles in the world.

Derek’s phone vibrated in his hand. He gave it a glance, knowing it would be Stiles, and put it to his ear without a word.

“Derek?” Stiles asked.

Derek didn’t answer. He was tired and Stiles’ voice was lulling him to sleep already. He knew his death would likely be from sleep deprivation so he fought it. He wanted it to be fast, not slow, and spending time with Stiles was just too soothing for him.

“Dude, I know you’re there, I can feel hear your angst through the phone,” Stiles told him irritably, “Where are you? I’m at your place.”

“I’m at the library,” Derek replied.

“It closed like… two hours ago.”

“I broke back in.”

“Why?”

“I have more books to read and not a lot of time. Without your scent I don’t sleep so I might as well keep busy.”

“I thought you weren’t like… attached to me anymore?”

“My wolf rejected you as my mate,” Derek replied softly, “That means the urgency to mate goes away, but not the results of being away from you. It’s probably not going to take long, just to warn you. I don’t want you to be shocked, but I also need some space.”

“You promised me more stories.”

“I can’t do this, Stiles.”

Derek hung up and turned his phone to no interruptions.


	10. Chapter 10

Derek was leaning against the cement wall with his eyes shut. He was tired. Tired and irritated, but also a bit flattered. He smelled Stiles before he heard him, and then he heard his tappity footsteps, and then the door opened and Stiles walked into the room.

“I can’t believe you had your dad arrest me,” Derek huffed.

“You broke into a library, dude,” Stiles replied, “You kinda had it coming. Plus, we need to talk.”

“Ominous words.”

“You need to apologize for lying to me before we can start doing this right,” Stiles stated, “You want a list or do you remember them all?”

“Stiles,” Derek rubbed at his face, “It’s going to take more than you cooperating to get my wolf to accept you now.”

“Apologies first, plots and plans later, and don’t even get me started on Lydia’s plan. I’m pissed enough. So. Apologies. Start from the top.”

Derek opened his eyes. Stiles was standing in front of the bars to the cell, arms folded and eyes narrowed angrily. Derek sighed. He did owe Stiles an apology or two, and he didn’t want to leave the world with that on his head.

“Okay. I’m sorry I tried to trick you into seeing me instead of just telling you I was your mate.”

“That’s like… three on the list.”

“What?” Derek blinked.

“Start from the _beginning_.”

“I’m sorry I… didn’t tell you I was a werewolf when we first met?” Derek tried.

“Not that long ago,” Stiles rubbed at his forehead and shook his head in disgust, “Derek. You told Scott that I would _die_ if we didn’t bond. That’s the whole reason my _best friend_ went along with your inept seduction plans. That’s why Lydia agreed to get involved instead of just telling you not to be a twat. If you’d come to me instead we could have-“

“You’re depressed and bordering on suicidal, Stiles. You don’t want a relationship. I’d have gotten precisely nowhere.”

“Or you could have left them out of it completely and just asked to hang out with me more. We’d bonded while hanging out, remember? I’m referring to the normal human way. Like I confided in you and you in me and we were totally on our way to be buds. You could have just invited me over to watch movies and I’d have come over. Things would have happened naturally. You’d have told me eventually and I’d have swooned in your arms like a Victorian heroine. I’d have felt like I’d _saved_ you instead of condemned you, which is how I’m feeling right about now. Like there’s no fucking _choice_.”

“I never wanted you to feel that way,” Derek replied, “That’s why I tried to go about it the way I did. I wanted you to feel like it was a seduction because _I_ wanted _you_ , not because my wolf decided to keep you.”

“Well, it’s done and over with and frankly if Scott hadn’t told me about your lie about the _stories_ -“

“Oh, yeah,” Derek replied, recalling it now, “I was half believing it myself.”

“Yeah, well, the fact you were going to such lengths to win me over and keep me near went a lot further than your half-assed plans. You’re really creative, Derek. I can’t believe you made up that first one on the fly.”

“I read a lot.”

“I noticed,” Stiles snickered, “B&E at a library? You’re such a nerd!”

“Says the guy who fell for fairy tales.”

“Says the guy who stuck messages in them hoping I would,” Stiles walked forward and hung his hands over the bars, leaning his forehead against them, “What do we have to do to fix this, Derek? How can I get your wolf to connect with me again?”

“Let me out of this cage?”

“I like you in there. It’s giving me filthy thoughts. Also my dad disabled the cameras and gave me his handcuffs and the keys to the cell.”

“No he didn’t,” Derek huffed a laugh out.

“I hate that you can tell when I’m lying. It ruins all my fun.”

“I hate that you can’t tell when I’m lying,” Derek replied miserably, “It makes me feel like my uncle.”

“So don’t do that anymore,” Stiles replied, “I’m standing right here _trying_ , Derek. Help me to help you.”

Derek sighed and closed his eyes again, letting his head fall against the wall, “I’m so tired.”

“So sleep.”

“I can’t. I don’t want to miss time with you.”

“So don’t sleep.”

“I’m so tired.”

“This is getting redundant,” Stiles sighed, pulling out the keys from his pocket.

Derek opened his eyes and watched as Stiles unlocked the cell and stepped inside. He crossed to Derek and straddled his thighs, pressing their foreheads together.

“Well?” Derek asked, “You have me at your mercy Officer Stiles. Now what?”

“Hm, still not my kink, but you just keep guessing,” Stiles smiled softly, “Now… Hmmm… Oh, I know. Once upon a time…”


	11. Chapter 11

Stiles was a young man from a small provincial town in southern France. He was thin, had a smattering of moles, and a tendency to spend more time with books than people. Though he was fairly attractive, he had very few friends and no love interests. He lived on the edge of town with his father who was a peacekeeper. Stiles’ mother had died when he was young and he had taken up the feminine role in the home, something he was much mocked for by the boys in town.

Now that Stiles was reaching adulthood, his father wanted him to travel to another town to court the daughter of one of his father’s friends. Stiles packed up a few bags, hugged his father goodbye, and climbed onto his horse. He would be spending the harvest with the family, helping them on their farm. It was exactly what he didn’t want in his life. He wished to become a peacekeeper like his father, but his slender form made for poor strength. So he was being married off.

Stiles moved through the woods with a heavy heart, knowing that he had to leave all his books and his father behind. The fact was that he likely would rarely see the man he’d cared for for so many years. Stiles was so deep in thought that he wasn’t paying attention to where he was going until he looked around himself and didn’t recognize his surroundings.

Stiles pulled the horse still and looked around himself in concern, glancing back to see that the sun was setting and he might not be able to figure out his way even if he turned around now. Up ahead he could see smoke, narrow as if from a fireplace, so he hurried towards it in the hope of finding shelter for the night. He was nearing a huge, hulking, shadowy building when he heard an angry roar to his right. The horse panicked at the sound and bucked, tossing Stiles to the ground where he momentarily blacked out. When he came too he was shivering in the cold of night. He pulled himself up, rubbing at his arms and peering into the darkness around him. He could no longer see the smoke. His horse was gone and whistling didn’t bring him back. Instead, it brought up another roar from behind him, but it was quickly cut off and a soft whimper followed it.

Stiles headed towards the sound, picking up a stick as he went along in case the injured animal was faking it or was still dangerous. He had nothing else to do, so he might as well rescue the damned thing. The moon came out at the same time that the stumbled into a clearing to see a large, hulking wolf-man standing there howling at the bright light in the sky. Stiles froze in horror, his chest tightening as he momentarily forgot how to breathe. The creature slumped down and made an aborted jerking motion as if trying to run. Stiles’ eyes narrowed and he came closer to find that the creature’s leg was caught in a bear trap. Stiles leveled his stick and crept closer while the creature whined and rubbed at its head in clear misery. It reached for the device but its clawed hands weren’t able to release the trigger.

The creature ignored Stiles as he approached, clearly not considering the scrawny human a threat. Stiles shoved his stick into the trap and pried hard. The creature bent double and got a grip on the trap. Together they pulled and pried until its ankle came free. Stiles staggered backwards and fell, but the creature didn’t launch at him. Instead it knelt down and examined its foot.

“You need to stem the flow of blood,” Stiles told him, crawling forward in concern, “Oh, you… wow…”

The wound was closing as Stiles watched, so fascinated that he didn’t realize the creature was looming over him until he’d been snatched up into its arms.

Stiles screamed, but he was tossed over the creature’s shoulder like so much luggage and carried at a fast pace through the woods. Stiles shouted and struggled, but there was no getting free. A fence creaked, opening and shutting without the creature even slowing, and then he was suddenly surrounded by warmth. A door slammed shut and Stiles was lowered to his feet. He blinked in the sudden light around him and backed away, staring around himself at a dusty but beautiful chateau.

The creature moved around him, his motions fast and graceful. Stiles looked after him and then hurried to follow, curiousity overwhelming his initial fear. He hadn’t been ripped limb from limb so far, and he was now someplace warm and dry. Stiles followed the creature up a curving flight of stairs and into a beautiful old bedroom with a four poster bed and delicate designs across the ceiling. A mural stretched across one wall, completely captivating Stiles as he studied the scene of battle and witchcraft. The door slammed shut and Stiles spun in alarm to find himself alone. He tried the door to find it locked and ran to the window. He stared down at the lawn below and the high stone wall with shards of glass along the top to prevent climbing.

The fireplace suddenly roared to life, drawing a yelp of fear from Stiles, and he shivered despite the warmth filling the room. Stiles spent a few hours worrying and trying to figure out how to escape before exhaustion weighed him down. He changed into clothes he found, shook out the duvet, changed the sheets, and climbed into the bed with a whimper of distress. Despite his anxiety he was asleep within minutes.

XXX

Stiles found the door unlocked in the morning after dressing in some old, slightly oversized clothes. He walked out into the hall and saw candlelight dancing in the distance. He followed it, calling after the illusive figure, until he found himself in a dining room with a table full of hot, delicious smelling foods. Stiles’ stomach made itself loudly known and after glancing around for his host he hurried forward and began heaping food onto his plate. Stiles sat down at the head of the table and devoured his meal, sighing in bliss as his body relaxed with the heaviness of food.

Once he had finished his morning tea he stood up and began to wander the castle, occasionally chasing lights like willow-o-the-wisps. Eventually he found himself standing in a study facing a high backed chair. It was so huge that the only clue he had that someone was in it was the lit candle and the sound of a quill scratching on paper. Stiles cleared his throat and a hand appeared motioning him forward from behind the dark fabric. Stiles came forward and found himself staring down at an attractive young man with dark hair and a flattering amount of light beard. He didn’t look up so Stiles waited until his energy caught up with him and he began to fidget.

“Um… er… Can you just… My name is Stiles.”

“I know,” He stated calmly, voice rich and aristocratic.

“And your name would be…?”

“Derek Hale.”

Stiles felt his stomach drop. The Hale family had vanished years ago, their chateau closed up and the lands posted against trespassing. Anyone who strayed onto it vanished or returned severely injured. Wild stories of a beast roaming the woods had kept most curious people out, but even young children had been murdered on the grounds. His best friend had gone to the grounds on a dare and never returned. Stiles backed away from the figure in horror.

“You needn’t fear me,” Derek stated, shuffling his papers and hanging one to dry, “The monster you saw yesterday was my uncle. He’s been cursed. He spends most of his time in the dungeon but occasionally breaks free. I secured him after he dropped you on my doorstep. You’re safe inside the house. He’s unable to harm anyone within these walls- a blessing amidst the curse that has destroyed my family and their once good name.”

“You… you know he’s been killing people? My best friend Scott…”

“I’m not responsible for him,” Derek stated, turning to face Stiles and freezing him in place with his gorgeous green eyes, “The house is magical and keeps him contained or not at its whim. The food will appear at set times, so will the lights. The doors will lock themselves as they see fit. I suggest you get used to being trapped in odd areas at times. Personally I always carry a bit of food and water with me just in case.”

“So why stay here?” Stiles spat out, “If the house is meant to keep uncle…?”

“Peter.”

“Peter contained, then why stay?”

“Isn’t that obvious?” Derek spat out as he stormed towards the exit to the library. The door flew open without him touching it, “I’m cursed as well.”

The door swung shut behind him and Stiles ran forward in a panic to pull on it only to find it locked. He shouted and pounded on it, but it didn’t open for another two hours. By then he was drowning in a book he’d found on the shelf about the Hale Family History. The door swung open and a stranger walked in, gave him a startled look, and glanced around suspiciously.

“Who are you?” The man asked.

“Stiles,” Stiles replied, “Who are you?”

“Peter Hale,” Peter replied, “You shouldn’t be here.”

Stiles stood up slowly, “You killed my best friend.”

“I’ve killed a lot of best friends,” Peter replied, clearly unconcerned, “Does Derek know you’re here? This is his study. He doesn’t like people in his study.”

“Then why are _you_ in his study?” Stiles parried back.

“I like irritating him,” Peter replied, “He’s my only company.”

“Right,” Stiles nodded, “That makes sense. So, aside from Derek baiting and murder, what do you do around here for fun.”

Peter gave him a strangely haunted look and then turned and walked away, heading for the stairs. Stiles slipped out of the study before it could lock him in again and hurried for the dining room so he could catch lunch time when it appeared. He brought the history book with him and sat down to read it. When the food appeared so did Derek, frowning at Stiles as he sat down at the head of the table. Stiles stared up at him from his place while Derek washed his hands in the little bowls of warm water, tucked his napkin in his lap, and began to eat with delicacy of the aristocracy.

Stiles wiped his mouth on his sleave, “Whose bedroom am I staying in?”

“My brother Tyler’s,” Derek stated, “He was your age when he died.”

“Oh. Sorry,” Stiles considered for a moment, “So is the curse in this book?”

“No,” Derek stated, taking a sip of his wine, “It ends with my grandfather’s generation. My father didn’t keep the records up.”

“Why not?”

“He was a useless drunk who spent the family’s money and brought the curse down on us.”

“Oh, wow, long sentence for you, huh? You need a moment? Maybe some fresh air?”

Derek gave him a cold glare and continued to eat in silence.

“Right, so am I cursed now, too?”

“Not that I know of,” Derek stated.

“So… can I leave?”

“If you want to,” Derek replied, wiping his mouth off and heading for the door at a brisk walk, “I honestly have no idea why you’re here in the first place.”

Stiles stayed a while longer, hoping to speak to Peter again, but when he didn’t appear for lunch Stiles took to wandering again. Most of the doors were locked so he got precisely nowhere, including back outside, and when he made it back to his room he found that door locked as well.

XXX

Stiles woke up on his back, staring up at a floating bit of light that moved through the air like a lightening bug. He scrambled up to find that he’d been woken up as he fell through his bedroom door when it flew open. Stiles chased the glowing light, but it floated straight _through_ a wall. Stiles stared at the blank spot for a moment and then started pressing on the wall and tapping along curiously. Something tapped back and Stiles jumped in surprise and then tapped a new pattern. It repeated back to him. Stiles fumbled along the dresser and then found a knot in the side that was lighter in color. He pushed it and a lever fell down from the side. He pulled the lever and the wall slid open with a creek.

Derek Hale stood on the other side, staring at Stiles through his eyelashes with that intense look on his face.

“Oh,” Stiles gasped.

“It’s a secret passage,” Derek stated, “I wondered if you’d find it. My room is on the other side.”

“Oh,” Stiles repeated, “Did I wake you?”

“I don’t sleep much.”

“That’s… okay. Are you okay?”

“I’m fine. Why?”

“Because you’re cursed and… what exactly is your curse?”

Derek turned to leave but Stiles hurried after him. The wall clicked shut behind him and he spun around in alarm, swearing irritably and pushing at it.

“Do the will-o-wisps control this, too?”

“Probably. I haven’t touched it in years. You didn’t have time to change?”

“No.”

“Here.”

Stiles turned to find Derek holding out a light nightgown for him. It resembled the nearly translucent cotton that Derek was wearing, loose but still managing to cling to his muscular form. Stiles swallowed hard, afraid that his secret would be revealed. Derek’s eyebrow raised and he pushed the cloth towards Stiles again. Stiles took it and inched sideways to gain some coverage from the gigantic four poster bed that dominated the room. Derek climbed in as Stiles changed and when he was covered again he inched out and looked around.

“Where should I…?”

“Come here,” Derek touched the other pillow on the bed, “I don’t bite. Not unless you ask me to.”

“Um…” Stiles laughed weakly, “You’re really… Um…”

“Shh,” Derek replied.

Stiles climbed into the bed, keeping himself on the edge. Derek leaned over him and shut the curtains around the bed to keep the warmth in. Stiles’ breath caught in his throat and Derek looked down at him. Stiles thought he could see the man’s eyes glowing in the darkness, but that was madness. Then again, this was _all_ madness.

“What are you?” Stiles whispered.

Instead of answering, Derek leaned down and captured Stiles’ lips, bringing a soft sound of longing up from his throat. Before he could rationalize how _wrong_ their actions were, he was wrapped around the older man while he climbed on top of him. Stiles writhed in longing as Derek’s tongue fucked his mouth hungrily. He arched and moaned, hips moving with need as desire shot through him in overwhelming waves. He had never thought he’d feel the touch of a man and had long ago resigned himself to being married off to a woman and having to force himself to touch her. Now he was pinned to the bed, Derek’s spicy scent surrounding him, as a hot hardness pressed against his hip. Stiles was shaking with pleasure far sooner than he’d wanted, but Derek followed him not long after with a low groan of release. As he was coming with his throbbing shaft pressed against Stiles’ body he bit his shoulder sharply enough to draw a shout from Stiles. Then he went limp, panting in pleasure and releasing Stiles’ abused flesh. Stiles lay still and in shock as Derek cleaned them both up, stripping off their clothes. Stiles had never dared to sleep naked, but now he did, curled in the arms of the strange, sensual man whose house had captured him.

XXX

“So, are you like, his keeper?” Stiles asked while Derek ate some porridge and read a book.

“No.”

“Is he yours?”

“No.”

“How do I break the curse?”

Derek paused and finally looked up at Stiles, who blinked and smiled innocently.

“What makes you think you can?” Derek asked, shutting the book.

“Well, the house trapped me here for a reason. I don’t think _I’m_ cursed, so I must be here to break it.”

“You have to fall in love with the beast,” Derek stated, “And he must love you back.”

Stiles’ face fell, “Oh. I was hoping… what about _your_ curse. That’s the one I want to break.”

“Not the one that caused your best friend to die?” Derek asked, raising an eyebrow.

“Well… I mean… not under those conditions. How do I break _your_ curse?”

“By killing the beast,” Derek replied, opening his book back up and dismissing Stiles.

“OK, where do you keep the weapons?”

“He’s immortal. He has to be burned alive and then beheaded. You’d have to actually _catch_ him in his beast form, as well. That’s not likely to happen. Also, you’re assuming I’ll let you kill my uncle. I won’t. He’s the last family I have left.”

“He’s a _monster_ ,” Stiles pointed out irritably.

“I know,” Derek stated, pushing his food aside and heading off, “Don’t get lost today.”

“Where did you get the book from!” Stiles called after him.

Derek paused and motioned to Stiles to follow him. Stiles hurried after him and Derek took him down a hall that Stiles hadn’t seen before. He tried three doors before one opened and then walked up to a fireplace. He pulled on a candlestick and some paneling swung open. Derek walked through the narrow space and Stiles followed. Lights flooded the area and Stiles found himself staring around the biggest, most beautiful library he’d ever seen. Three stories, straight up to the top of the chateau, all filled with books. Balconies and spiral staircases allowed for an open view to the ceiling above where cherubs danced with demons.

Stiles reached out and grabbed at Derek’s arm, “Oh my gods, oh my gods. I’ve died and gone to heaven. Never mind. Fuck the curse. I’m never leaving this room. If you need me I’ll be reading on that floofy chair over there.”

Derek chuckled. Stiles paused to give him a shocked look and he _blushed_! Stiles opened his mouth to comment but Derek fled, hurrying out of the room and leaving Stiles with more books than he could ever read in a lifetime.

Late that night Stiles woke to feel something sliding over his chest. HE opened his eyes to see glowing blue eyes hovering over him. They closed and the shadow vanished out a side door. A blanket. Derek had covered him with a blanket.

XXX

Days turned into weeks and weeks into months. Stiles sometimes slept in the library, but often slept in Derek’s room wrapped in his arms. When he was there the man would ravage him, biting his lips, shoulders, and hips. The first time Derek took him into his mouth he’d come screaming in pleasure. The first time he’d suckled on Derek the man had made the most beautiful sounds and clawed the back of his head until it bled. Stiles was undeniably falling in love with Derek, but every time he saw Peter he remembered the curse and that this wasn’t a strange love affair. It was a nightmare.

XXX

The full moon was approaching and Stiles could feel the tension. Peter started seeking Derek out more often and would goad him, whispering horrible things about disembowelments, beheadings, and rape. _Rape_. Over and again he hissed about fucking Stiles bloody, and Stiles was left shaking in fear. Derek kept reassuring him that he couldn’t harm him within the house. Not within the house. Stiles just had to stay _in the house_. Stiles started avoiding the windows, terrified that they would open up and he’d fall through the way he often did the doors in the house. He was a walking bundle of nerves and when the sun set on the full moon Derek vanished.

XXX

Stiles sat in the library on the tallest balcony, trembling in fear with a hoard of food, a bucket to piss in, a few flasks of water, a torch, and tons of oil. He was both hoping and fearing that Peter would come into the library. If he did then Stiles would set him on fire and use the axe in the shed to behead him. If he didn’t then Stiles would while out the night in the library in fear.

Just as he was starting to reach that point where terror became exhaustion, a snarl reached his ears. Stiles stood up and stared down at a black werewolf skulking along the ground floor. It was sniffing the air, and it easily spotted him up on the third floor balcony. Stiles fumbled for the oil and lifted it up on the balcony railing to pour it down on top of the creature’s head. It froze beneath him, staring up, and Stiles found himself staring into its eyes. His breath caught and he shoved hard to knock the barrel… onto the floor behind him.

 _“Derek?”_ Stiles choked out, running for the spiral staircase, “Derek?!”

Stiles reached the first floor and ran for the creature without thinking, despite the gaping maw and the roar of rage that met his ears. He wrapped his arms around his neck and pressed close, choking on a sob.

“I was going to _kill_ you,” Stiles whispered, “Why didn’t you tell me?”

The angry growls dimmed away to a soft, sad whimper. Stiles held the creature tightly, fingers running through his fur. Long, muscled arms, so familiar and yet so strange, wrapped around Stiles’ body. He felt pulled into the creature, absorbed into him as he breathed in his familiar scent. Stiles wasn’t aware he was crying until he felt damp fur against his cheek.

 “Don’t ever do that to me again,” Stiles choked, “I love you, you _idiot_.”

Light filled the room as if all the will-o-wisps in the chateau had fled towards them all at once. Stiles shouted as his eyes burned and then he was forced out of Derek’s arms. He shouted his lover’s name and reached for him to find clawed hand clasping at his. Stiles blinked around him to find that he was standing in the shell of an old, broken down chateau. It had been destroyed and was a skeleton of its former self.

“What… what happened?” Stiles whispered.

“You broke my curse,” Derek whispered around his long fangs, “I was trapped inside that house. You freed me.”

“Trapped, but… the chateau. The _library_.”

“It wasn’t real. The borders kept me contained. The house was burned to the ground by my uncle a century ago after I was bitten by a werewolf. He died in the fire and his ghost has haunted me ever since. I was trapped there, unable to leave until someone accepted me for whom I truly am. The legends remained and lured people here, but whenever they came closer they fled me, and Peter…”

“He killed them.”

“He burned them alive.”

“You felt guilty for their deaths,” Stiles choked, tears filling his eyes as he thought of his long-lost friend.

“The poltergeist exists because of me.”

“You’re not responsible for him,” Stiles told him, reaching up to pet the fur at his cheek, “That’s one of the first things you told me and it’s _true_. You’re not responsible for the deaths he caused and now… you’ll never be alone again.”

XXX

Derek gasped and his eyes flew open. A bright light blinded him and he turned his head, growling in frustration. The light was quickly shut off and Deaton’s face appeared past the dancing pink spots from his shocked eyes.

“Derek, thank goodness you’re awake,” Deaton breathed, “I told Stiles the vision-“

“I smell blood,” Derek gasped, “Where’s Stiles?”

“He’ll be fine. His father stopped him in time.”

“I smell _his_ blood! Where is he?!” Derek raged.

“His magic took over you,” Deaton told him, pushing on Derek’s shoulder. He sagged weakly onto the exam table, “You turned during the vision and Stiles was terrified. He thought he’d harmed you when he couldn’t wake you up. He tried to use your claws to… the important part is that his father _stopped him in time_. He’s in the hospital, but he’s going to be fine. I need you to relax for me. Stiles unintentionally sent you a vision and it’s probably left you drained.”

“Drained,” Derek agreed.

“Rest, Derek,” Deaton told him, “Your mate will be in Eichen House for at least three days. When he’s released you want to be well enough to great him, don’t you?”

“Yeah,” Derek let Deaton pour a concoction down his throat and sagged back onto the table to sleep.


	12. Chapter 12

Stiles climbed into the car beside Scott and cleared his throat, “So, you got the stuff.”

“Uh, huh,” Scott replied, pulling a package up from the floor and handing it off to Stiles without looking at him.

Stiles didn’t blame him for being uncomfortable. If the situation had been reversed and Stiles had been asked to pick this particular package up for Scott he’d have been traumatized as well. Luckily Stiles’ father was patiently driving the car with a clear idea that he shouldn’t ask what was in the bag. Stiles was meeting Derek at Lydia’s birthday party after having been assured by Deaton that Derek was just fine. They’d talked on the phone every night and he’d been glad to hear his voice each time, so Stiles was sure he wasn’t angry about the whole vision thing. The party was a costume party at Stiles’ request. Lydia was allowing it, but under threat of death if Stiles gave her any more angst.

Stiles changed at Scott’s house and came out in the second half of the costume, a long trench coat that he hoped to reuse later. Scott sniggered at the sight of him but didn’t comment. When they arrived at the party Lydia _did_ comment.

“Stiles, if you’re naked under there you better turn around and leave because if I see one _single_ pubic hair you’re going to be limping home, and it won’t be because of Derek.”

“Dude, didn’t you take care of the pubic hairs?” Scott asked before Stiles could reply.

“Yes, of _course_ I took care of the pubic hairs!” Stiles hissed.

Lydia slammed the door in their faces. Scott went in to smooth things over while Stiles crept around the back and entered via the yard. He walked through until he found Derek sitting on a stone bench watching the pack laugh and play together. Jackson had officially joined them and Cora was visiting but she was staring at them from a distance, drinking and staring coldly at Derek. Stiles was determined to ignore her so he headed over to Derek and paused in front of him.

Derek raised an eyebrow, “Are you going to flash me?”

“Do you want me to?”

“Well, yeah,” Derek snorted.

“Sorry, maybe next time,” Stiles stated, “Am I your mate again?”

Derek held out his hand and Stiles took it greedily, but before he could collapse into Derek’s lap the man winced and shook his head miserably, “No, Stiles. It’s going to take more than the vision.”

Stiles sighed, “I was afraid of that, which is why I planned this out. Derek, I want you to tell me one more story, but this time… we’re acting it out.”

Stiles stepped back and dropped the trench coat to reveal a tiny, tight red dress with a laced front and frilly skirt. Down his back was a long, velvet cape with a hood. His legs had white thigh highs on held in place with a garter belt. His bits were barely covered, but just in case he’d worn the white silk panties as well. His feet were covered in… combat boots. He wasn’t a complete moron.

“So,” Stiles stated, “I’m going shopping. Then I’m going to your family’s woods. Your territory. Where you’ll hunt me down.”

Derek’s eyes were glowing and Stiles shivered in delight. Derek swallowed hard and nodded, eyes taking in his clothes and the pale, mole smattered flesh on show. Stiles smiled, pulled up his hood, and turned sharply on his heel to march right back out of the house.

“Where are you going?” Lydia asked, “I changed the party just for- oh, hey, cute costume.”

“Thanks! Happy Birthday! Bye!” Stiles chattered away, hurrying out the door.

XXX

Derek sat there, taking slow, deep breaths with his eyes closed as he struggled to find his focus. He was ready to wolf out and that wasn’t okay. His phone went off and Derek fumbled with clawed hands to answer it.

“So,” Stiles’ voice met his ear, “Once upon a time a sassy young man lived in Beacon Hills with his awesome Sheriff dad.”

“Don’t remind me,” Derek growled.

“We’ll cross that bullet-riddled bridge when we come to it. Anyway. One day, Sexy Red Cloaked Stiles decided to visit his mother’s grave _all_ the way on the other side of town.”

“Your choice of starting this at Lydia’s house is starting to make sense,” Derek replied, slinking out of the house as quickly as possible and heading for his car.

“So he went to the store to pack up a few essentials.”

“Lube, I hope.”

“Shh,” Stiles hissed, “I was a boy scout. Always prepared.”

“I hope you’re prepared, all right,” Derek growled as he stood in the middle of the road and sniffed the air, “Because I doubt I’ll be able to contain myself once I get my hands on you.”

“Promises, promises,” Stiles flirted.

“Stiles,” Derek groaned, “I need you to _listen to me_. I’m _warning_ you, not flirting. In order to get my wolf back on board I’m going to have to let it loose, on the full moon, to _hunt you down_. I’ll either catch you and kill you or catch you and fuck you senseless. I’ll have no way to restrain myself. Do you get that?”

“Why do you think I timed it like this?” Stiles replied, “I’m on board, Derek. So… where was I? Oh, yeah. The store. So he went to the store to pack up a few essentials. Little did he know- because he was oblivious in the story- but it was a full moon, and a wolf was prowling the woods.”

Derek put in his headset, pocketed his phone, and began to jog towards the woods on the far side of town. He kept up the story as he went.

“The wolf,” Derek growled out, “Was searching for his mate, whom he’d long been denied. He was half mad with longing and starved for touch.”

“Mm, muffins.”

“What?”

“Sorry, ADHD and a grocery store. Not a good combo. Lots of shiny things.”

“I bet I could make you focus,” Derek snarled.

“Bet you could,” Stiles replied, “Considering my skin still does that thrummy yummy thing when you touch me.”

“Fuck,” Derek breathed, “I want that back.”

“Come and get it,” Stiles purred, “Um… not you. Sorry. My boyfriend is on the other line and… yeah, just the muffins, basket, and the baby wipes. Don’t ask.”

Derek laughed, but didn’t bother slowing down. Stiles had a jeep and Derek was just warming up. He’d still have his head start.

“So anyway,” Stiles continued after a lengthy pause, “Sexy Stiles decided a walk through the woods was the best way to get there-“

“-Because he has a death wish that I’m _really_ going to have to remedy,” Derek interrupted.

“-Yeah, there’s that. So he sets off into the woods with his little knickers left behind in the car so the boys can breathe.”

“Jesus fucking Christ,” Derek growled, turning sharply and heading into the woods as well. He paused and sniffed the air.

“It’s so dark, Derek,” Stiles breathed, “Ahem. Right. Stiles walked through the woods with a skip in his step… no, not really. I’ll sprain something. I think it’s time for me to sign off and you to come hunt me down. See you blue eyes.”

“You’ll hear me first,” Derek growled, and stuffed the earpiece into his pocket. Then he stripped off his clothes and left them the roots of a tree that he marked with urine to make finding it easier later. Derek stepped a few feet away and began to sniff the air again.

Derek couldn’t catch Stiles’ scent from where he was, but then again he had only a slim idea of where he’d gone into the woods and the wind was working against him. He headed at an angle to cut Stiles off from his destination, knowing it would mean he was miles into the woods by the time he cut him off.

_Good. No one will hear him scream._


	13. Chapter 13

A/N This is the chapter with knotting, dub-con, and some of violence. Skip if you need to. PWP.

 

Stiles walked down what was actually a fairly familiar path. He’d gone from his mother’s grave to various areas around town via the paths through the Hale Woods. Most of them didn’t go near the house, but now Stiles knew why that was. So he hurried along the path and listened keenly to for the sound of a wolf moving through the woods or howling in the distance. The woods were creepy at night, especially now that he knew there really were things that went bump in them. Stiles walked along and froze every few feet at the sound of twigs snapping and trees groaning.

 _What if I meet a different wolf?_ Stiles worried, then laughed at himself and began to walk faster.

“Lions and tigers and bears, oh my,” Stiles whispered as he walked hurriedly along the path.

A howl sounded in the distance and Stiles froze, the hackles raising on his neck as his heart began to pound. His mate wouldn’t garner this reaction, and he was sure that wasn’t Derek’s howl. Another wolf was in the woods, and he or she was on the hunt.

“And I’m out here like a dumb ass in a red fucking dress!” Stiles hissed, then began to run fast out of sheer terror while fumbling with his phone, “C’mon answer, Derek. Answer!”

XXX

Derek heard the other wolf and growled in frustration, throwing his head back to answer loudly. _My territory!_

_Not my mate._

Derek staggered at the realization and then began to run again, dropping to all fours to take off after Stiles. He let the wolf out. It was his only chance to get to Stiles first, even if it had an equal chance of meaning his death. He would rather Stiles died by his hands than another’s.

_Better yet that my wolf feels me catch him and takes him as ours again! But first I need to eliminate the threat!_

Derek threw back his head and howled again, chasing after the wolf first rather than the young man. The wolf turned and headed for him as well, and they met after half a mile. The two snarled, circling each other as they sniffed the air. The other werewolf was a stray omega, and he was fully in control of his transformation. It must have been confusing as hell for him to meet a beta who was completely wolfed out during the full moon and clearly savage. He lowered his ears to see if Derek would back off. Derek made a snap towards his feet. _Get out! Leave my territory_! The other ‘wolf hesitated and then apparently decided Derek was some alpha’s problem and he’d get in good by attacking.

Derek jumped backwards to avoid the first slash of claws. Then he ducked low and took the young thing down. He was too wild to restrain himself with his possible mate nearby. The young ‘wolf was disemboweled before Derek could get a grip on himself. He stepped back and stared down at the whimpering body before him, claws dripping blood, and then turned and took off into the night. He rubbed the filth off of himself so his nose could easily pick up Stiles’ scent rather than the possibly dying werewolf. Then he began to track his wayward packmate.

Stiles was ahead of him stinking of fear, he was running full tilt, his basket dropping food and his breathing ragged. Underneath the current of sweat, terror, and exhaustion was the arousal he’d had before the other ‘wolf had howled. The scent confused Derek’s wolf and it warred between hunting to kill and taking down its mate so it could mount him. Derek’s mind fought with it, losing ground on the frightened creature. He was prying himself out of his own madness when Stiles staggered to a stop, leaning against a tree and panting.

Derek’s wolf went into hunt mode, circling the tree and growling low to intimidate the prey. Stiles stiffened and planted his back against the tree, his skirts catching against the bark and ruffling loudly to Derek’s sensitive ears.

“Why Derek,” Stiles panted, “What bright eyes you have.”

Derek’s mind pulled at the sound of Stiles’ voice, recalling the names, voice, and stories.

“Look up, Stiles,” Derek growled, “There’s blood on the moon. Your blood. Don’t run, Stiles. If you run I’ll chase you and I’ll really be a big, bad wolf.”

“Blood,” Stiles breathed, “Got it. No running. W-why Derek… what bright eyes you have.”

“The better to see you with,” Derek growled, his voice barely human and almost a howl on the second to last word. He was still circling, but his dick was starting to harden.

Stiles swallowed, trembling against the tree. The scent of arousal was growing, “Why Derek, what big hands you have.”

“The better to _pin_ you with,” Derek snarled, teeth flashing as he lunged forward teasingly and then jumped back.

Stiles yelped in fear, but the scent of arousal was still high as he took several gulping breaths, “Why Derek, what big t-teeth you have.”

“The better to _eat you with,”_ Derek roared, and launched himself at Stiles’ throat.

Stiles lifted his chin, a shiver going through his body… and relaxed against the tree. Derek came in close, pinned his arms above his head with the basket dangling from his shoulder and striking his ribs. He pressed his teeth against Stiles’ throat. Stiles sagged against the tree and made a soft sound of longing in the back of his throat. Derek’s wolf flailed in confusion. It was about to kill… what happened? Why did the prey smell so _aroused_? Yet Stiles was even more excited than before, his cock leaking precum inside his frilly dress.

Derek ran his teeth along Stiles’ flesh, pushing enough to cause pain but not kill. Stiles shivered and moaned softly in the back of his throat. Derek huffed as his own interest began to rise. He pressed his hips against Stiles’ and the young man whined. His erection must have chaffed against the skirt lace because he didn’t sound as pleased. Stiles lifted his leg and rubbed his thigh against Derek’s groin, bringing a wash of sensations through him. Derek’s mouth moved down to the groove between neck and shoulder and a shock went through his body, causing him to clamp down. Stiles screamed and blood flooded Derek’s mouth, driving his senses to new heights. He was rutting against Stiles’ leg, pushing the skirts aside so his aching cock could press against the flesh of his hip. Stiles was shaking and whimpering in pain, but he was also grasping at Derek and chanting his name.

“Please, please, Derek. _Again_.”

Derek shifted to the other shoulder and bit down, his motion more controlled as he went for pain rather than bloodshed. Stiles cried out, arching against him wantonly. Derek could smell semen in the air and knew the young man was close to climaxing just from teeth on flesh. Derek stepped back and threw Stiles to the ground, leaping on him eagerly. He pinned his pretty legs down and dug his teeth into Stiles’ thigh, careful but firm enough to cause pain. Stiles caught his breath from the air being forced out and moaned, grasping at Derek’s hair.

“Fuck! Yes! Eat me! Derek!” Stiles screamed.

Derek growled as he moved up Stiles’ body, lapping at his turgid flesh. Stiles shook and his cock pulsed onto Derek’s tongue. Derek growled in excitement and flipped the limp young man over. Everywhere he touched felt feverish. Stiles’ body was a furnace and Derek was going to warm himself inside it. He caught at him and spread his firm cheeks wide spitting Stiles’ spunk onto the crack of his ass. He leaned down and wriggled his tongue amongst the salty spread, pushing his muscle into Stiles’ little hole. Inside was the bitter taste of lubricant but Derek ignored it. Stiles was swearing and writhing beneath him, pushing up for more and gasping as Derek pushed his thumb into Stiles’ hole.

“Oh, fuck,” Stiles crooned, “Derek, _please_.”

Stiles was slick with spit, come, and sweat, his body trembling with desire as Derek turned his head and bit that plump flesh. Stiles pushed back greedily, scratching at the dirt as his cock dripped on the ground. He was getting hard again already. _Ah, youth._ Derek growled happily and savored his flesh as he bit and nipped along his body. He lapped at his hairless balls and drew soft keens of need from the younger man. Derek suckled at his taint and then teased around his hole. He kneeled up, massaging his ass as he rubbed the head of his cock against Stiles’ gapping pucker.

Stiles panted, pushing back and whimpering with fear and need, “Derek… mate me?”

“Yes,” Derek breathed, pushing against him firmly until the head of his cock pushed through. Stiles let out a pained sound and tried to pull away.

“Fuck! It’s not wet enough.”

“Will be soon,” Derek growled, gripping Stiles’ hair to keep him in place.

Stiles cried out and tried to get away from him, but Derek wasn’t letting him go. He reached down and tossed himself off, knowing he wasn’t going to get his massive cock in deeper without _far_ more liquid than Stiles had foolishly used. For the moment he was only a couple of inches in, just the tip of his cock breeching Stiles’ body. Stiles’ muscles fluttered and clenched, but Derek ignored his attempts to both consciously push him out and unconsciously pull him in. Instead he worked his cock with one hand until he felt his knot swell and then gripped it firmly. His dick pulsed out into Stiles’ body, flooding his insides with his cream and marking him as Derek’s mate. He’d staked his claim and the pleasure was overwhelming. He panted and groaned in relief, his vision sparking white.

Stiles gasped beneath him, his bowels filling with fluids that stretched him wide before spreading out and spilling out of his ass to drip on the forest floor. Derek growled in excitement and thrust in deep, rending a scream from the young man beneath him.

“Then the wolf,” Derek growled out, “Realized that Little Red Sexy Stiles wasn’t his dinner after all, but his _mate_. So he threw him to the forest floor and claimed him as his own!”

Derek released Stiles’ hair and gripped his hips instead, thrusting into the younger man over and again. Stiles let out a few miserable sobs, but then stilled in surprise. Derek grinned viciously, teeth flashing in the night as he watched Stiles’ body language change. He was pushing back for more now, gasping in excitement as his body shook with growing pleasure. Derek knew his girth would stimulate Stiles’ prostate on each stroke in and out, it was just getting past the initial burn.

Stiles was moaning deeply now, pushing back and crying out for more as Derek pounded into him. Technically he was satisfied, but he’d be hard and his knot swollen for at least half an hour. He wanted to knot Stiles, to fill him to the brink and hold him helpless against his body. However, he was still aware of the one wolf in the woods already, and where there was one there could be others. He couldn’t knot Stiles here. He had to get him back to his den. So he would bring his mate off, seal their union, and then steal him away to his loft to have him again and again. Derek pulled Stiles up by his shoulder, plastering his body against him, and reached around to rip the front of the dress open and tease his nipples while continuing to plunder his body.

Stiles’ mouth was open, gasping for air, as he shook and moaned in pleasure and pain. Derek’s free hand wandered his body stroking his cock teasingly before wandering away to stroke his torso. He moved up and toyed with Stiles’ mouth, getting him to suckle his fingers as he pulled on his jaw just to manipulate him. When he released his mouth Stiles panted out his name.

“Derek… Derek, please! It hurts. I just… I need to _come_ , fucking _please!”_ Stiles choked out, his voice hoarse from his screams.

Derek growled out his mate’s name, barely able to summon words as he reached down to take Stiles firmly in hand. He would have brought him off then, but a deep howl reached his ears.

 _Scott_. _My alpha._

Derek smiled against Stiles’ temple. He was safe. His alpha was in the woods guarding them. He could do whatever he wanted knowing that his mate was safe. Derek shoved Stiles back down, this time pressing his face into the dirt so he could get the best angle. He gripped him tightly and pushed in to the limit of his long, thick member. Stiles whined and reached for his prick, but Derek shoved his hand away.

“No,” Derek ordered.

“So not fair,” Stiles whined.

Derek pushed hard and his knot throbbed in longing for that tight grip that only his mates body could give him. He’d never knotted another person in his life and the idea of it alone was making him pant fast and hard.

“Derek?” Stiles whined, “What the fuck are you doing? Trying to shove your balls into my a-ahh! Ah!”

Stiles cried out and instinctively bared down as Derek continued to press until his knot finally popped through Stiles’ guardian muscle. Derek gasped, his entire body suffused with pleasure as his bollocks drew up and his cock erupted in Stiles’ body. Nothing he had experienced previously could compare to the ecstasy coursing through his body. Stiles was shaking beneath him, the scent of his seed intoxicating Derek as his prostate was milked by Derek’s pulsing knot and the press of fluids filling his body.

Derek lay over Stiles, whimpering as extended gratification made him nearly weak with relief. He fumbled momentarily and then reached down to jerk Stiles’ cock almost violently, the other hand reaching up to twist his nipples. Stiles took his weight and screamed again, his cock thickening in impending release. Derek sank his teeth into the soft flesh at his shoulder blade and the younger man came with a strangled scream. He milked Stiles’ cock, teasing the head long after he was through until tears ran down his cheeks. Then he lowered them both to the ground and ran his hands over the younger man’s body while he lay there, dirt on his face and arms, panting and limp, with Derek’s seed pushing his belly out until he nearly looked gravid.

“Stiles,” Derek whispered.

“Derek,” Stiles whispered back, teeth chattering, trembling weakly in his arms, “Did it work? Tell me it worked. I can’t live without having you like that again, I’ll fucking die.”

“You’re cold…” Derek whispered, stroking his cheek lovingly.

“Cape,” Stiles replied in his ragged voice, “Always prepared.”

Derek reached for it and tugged it around to cover the fragile human’s body, “My mate. Mine.”

“Yours.”

It was nearly an hour dozing under the moonlight before Derek’s knot came down enough to slide free. He immediately crawled back and manipulated Stiles’ worn out body. He put him back on hands and knees, ass in the air and face in the dirt, and kneeled back to admire him. Derek had shredded the dress’s front near Stiles’ chest, but it was still wrapped around his waist, framing his ass perfectly in the darkness while Derek’s come poured out of his gaping hole. Derek was slowly coming back into his own mind again and he was wishing he’d had his phone so he could take a picture of this beautiful sight. He recalled Stiles’ phone and searched for it, finding it lodged in his boot.

“Say ‘claimed’,” Derek growled.

“C-claimed?” Stiles hiccupped.

The flash lit up the night and Derek smiled as he reached out and stroked the young man’s abused flesh.

“So beautiful for me, aren’t you?” Derek growled, “I’m going to take you home and ravage you.”


	14. Chapter 14

Stiles whimpered and Derek took a bit of pity on him, placing his hand on his rump and drawing out some of the pain. Stiles sighed in relief and sagged sideways onto the ground again. Then his entire body went stiff and his eyes widened in shock and horror.

“What?” Derek asked, wondering what had drawn that reaction when everything else had garnered arousal.

“I missed it! I completely missed my opportunity!”

“To _what_?” Derek asked, “It worked. We’re bonded again. We’ve finished the claim, Stiles. We’re as good as married.”

“Not that! To say ‘Why Derek, what a big dick you have!’” Stiles groaned miserably.

Derek threw his head back and laughed, rolling Stiles onto his back and turning his head from side to side, “How badly are you hurt? I bit to harm more than once.”

“I healed it,” Stiles replied softly, “I was pulling from you with my magic. You didn’t feel it?”

“No,” Derek replied, eyebrows furrowed in confusion, “Are you sure you were pulling from me?”

“Why?”

“You’re an Emissary, Stiles. You might have chosen a new Nemeton.”

Stiles shakily sat up and looked around himself. The tree he’d been pinned against felt… _alive_ , and not just in a photosynthesis way. Stiles reached out and touched the claw marks along the bark and then ran his hand down to the dirt beneath it.

“I’m going to need your help,” Stiles told him softly.

“Name it,” Derek replied, nuzzling the bruises along Stiles’ neck from his multiple bites. Stiles had only healed enough to survive the lacerations, not to remove all damage.

“I need you to _carefully_ dig deep into the ground at the base of this tree. Don’t harm a single root.”

“Okay,” Derek nodded, and moved around, crouching on the ground and sniffing at it curiously to find a place where less wood-scent emanated.

Scott came wandering over while Derek was inspecting the area, curious as to why they were awake but not moving on. Stiles tucked himself tighter into his cloak and gave Scott a grin.

“Hey, buddy! Derek put a ring on it, but he chose my neck rather than my finger,” Stiles announced, indicating the various bites on his neck and shoulders.

Scott shook his head in amusement and headed for Derek, “What are you doing? And where do you want me to get your clothes?”

“Later,” Derek replied, “Stiles used our mating to bless and create a Nemeton. We need to dig a sanctuary open. Don’t hurt the tree.”

Derek and Scott worked together, sifting dirt and carrying it away in Scott’s tied-up shirt. Stiles was grateful that school was officially out since it took till nearly noon. He messaged his father and spent some time wandering around gathering berries to eat and munching on the food from his basket that had managed to survive his trip through the woods. He cleaned up with the baby wipes and discovered a few discomforts of post-anal sex, but overall he was only achy and tired. He was hovering over the hole they’d dug, watching them anxiously, when he felt a sudden pull.

“Stop! Both of you, stop!” Stiles called.

Both wolves froze and at Stiles’ hurried motions they crawled out of their pit. Stiles slowly skidded into the hole and studied the area around him. The hole was about three feet in diameter and sloped downward for about eight feet. Stiles reached up and caressed a few stray wooden hairs, the beginnings of the tree’s root structure.

“This is it,” Stiles whispered. Then closed his eyes and let the simmering power beneath his skin expand out. He was terrified. He had no idea what would happen. He only knew that he’d been holding it in for too long and being near the tree was pulling it out. When he opened his eyes there was a low tunnel before him. Stiles ducked down and climbed inside, finding himself moving down hardpacked earth stairs. The very depths of the Nemeton were above him, with just three thick roots descending into the cavern he’d created. He looked around himself and nodded in satisfaction before crawling back out.

“We’re going to need lots of wood,” Stiles told them, brushing his hands off, “We’ll need to reinforce the walls and ceiling, not to mention make sure the steps don’t wash away with the next rain. We should put a door on it like the other one had. In fact, can we use the other door?”

“Parts of it,” Derek nodded, “I’ll bring them here.”

“Thanks, babe.”

Derek raised an eyebrow, making Stiles pause.

“Um… thanks… Derek?”

Derek cocked his head to one side, favouring Stiles with a disappointed look.

“Thanks… Alpha? Honey? Darling? Er… Dear?”

“Try _mate_ ,” Scott nudged him.

“Oh! Right! Thank you, my mate,” Stiles leaned in and pecked a kiss onto Derek’s satisfied smirk.

“Right,” Derek nodded, “First thing first. Home and wash up. Then sleep.”

“Ugh. Yes,” Stiles moaned, “All the sleep.”

“All the hot water,” Scott made a face, “You reek, bro.”

“Laugh all you want, you know I’m hot,” Stiles replied, sauntering away with swaying hips.

Derek caught at Scott’s arm before he could walk after Stiles, “Thank you.”

“For what?” Scott asked.

“For being here when I needed you.”

Scott smiled wide, “We’re pack and I’m your alpha. That’s what I’m here for.”

Derek smiled broadly and they headed home, Stiles being carried after a whopping 300 feet.


	15. Chapter 15

Derek couldn’t believe the elated, almost stoned feeling of taking care of his mate. He washed Stiles and carried him to bed, wrapped him in blankets and fluffed his pillows. He caressed his cheek and smiled down at him until he fell asleep. When the young man was safely ensconced in his den, Derek went downstairs where Scott had made himself at home in his living room. He was drinking a beer and relaxing on the couch. He smiled up at Derek as he came downstairs and the older werewolf collapsed onto the couch beside Scott.

“He’s mine,” Derek smiled, letting his eyes fall shut and basking in the joy that filled his heart.

“All yours,” Scott agreed, “Beer?”

“You’re not even old enough to drink,” Derek huffed, pulling the beer from his hand and taking a heavy pull from it. He sighed and let out a contented belch.

“So what now?” Scott asked, “Stiles moves in with you?”

“That’s the plan,” Derek replied.

“You should ask him,” Stiles replied, “Don’t just assume. He works better with consideration.”

“Thanks,” Derek nodded, “I’m trying to make this work. I’m… he’s… this is insane. We’ve always driven each other crazy. Fought together. Teased each other. He makes me laugh and I don’t know how to handle that. It’s been so long since I was happy that I’m not sure how to… like, am I _allowed_ to be happy?”

“Yes,” Scott replied, reaching out and nudging his arm.

“How can you just say that?”

“Kate Argent killed your family, Derek. Not you,” Scott told him, “You were a young, stupid kid. She used you and she was wrong for it.”

Derek shook his head, “Stiles is a kid.”

“Don’t,” Scott shook his head, “You waited for him to be legal and you got his consent. You haven’t pulled the whole… manipulative bullshit. Just give to him as much as you take from him, you know? Make this fair.”

“I’m not sure I understand fair,” Derek replied, then turned and met Scott’s eyes, “But I’m going to try. I’ll help you with the wolf stuff and you help me with the mate thing.”

“Sure,” Scott smiled, “Maybe you can help me find my mate?”

“That’s something that only you can do,” Derek replied, “My mother always told me…” Derek paused and took a deep breath, “My mother always told me that finding your mate was something that every wolf wanted but only a few managed to find. Some people believe everyone has a mate, some that only a few do, some that it’s not our destiny to find them so we go without for the most part. Do you see now why I’m so freaked out? I’ve never done anything right in my life, so why do I get a mate? You deserve one, but me?”

“Maybe you deserve one more,” Scott considered, “Or… need one.”

“Maybe.”

XXX

Stiles stood up and stretched, his arms over his head and his eyes squeezed tightly shut. Below him on the floor, Derek was stretched out with his hands behind his head. He looked up at Stiles with heat and love in his eyes while the skinny young man showed off his long, willowy body.

Stiles’ cock was nestled calmly in his curls, a long soft bit of flesh that Derek was admiring for a while. Derek’s was hard and full, pulsing and leaking against his abdomen. Stiles had come home from his graduation ceremony and just slowly stripped off his clothes. He’d pushed Derek towards his living room and nodded towards the floor. Derek had obediently stripped and lay down, waiting to see what Stiles wanted. He didn’t smell aroused, but he was definitely turning Derek on.

“You look good like that,” Stiles told him, “White rug, all that tan skin.”

“You look good like _that_ ,” Derek replied, “Tall and white like the tree you turned into a Nemeton. My graceful birch.”

“My lessons with Deaton are going well, so far,” Stiles told him, “Do you want to see something I can do now?”

“Yes,” Derek replied too quickly.

Stiles chuckled and knelt beside him, both knees planted firmly to Derek’s right. He reached out and held a hand over Derek’s chest and the other over his groin. Derek felt a spark of concern and then calmed himself. He trusted Stiles. Stiles ran his hands about a foot over Derek’s body, humming deep in his throat.

Derek felt sparks of power flow over his body, a pulsating strength that came from his slender, mole dotted mate. It felt like heat and electricity teasing his skin, making the hair rise all across his scalp. This energy reminded him of how his body naturally healed, but he wasn’t ill or hurt so what was it doing?

The answer was immediately clear as pleasure and joy washed through him. Derek was shaking with it, tears falling from his eyes as he thrashed on the floor, back arching and cries of pleasure being torn from his lips. His cock was harder than it had ever been before, his knot swelling so fast it ached. Stiles took a few sharp, gasping breaths, and Derek’s entire body arched off the floor, muscles straining and power rippling up his spine. Only his heels and shoulders remained in contact with the plush rug he lay on. He let out a savage scream and his cock erupted across his body. His seed pulsed out, splashing across his torso and face. Stiles gasped a few times and slumped onto the floor beside him while Derek lay there, convulsing in pleasure and gasping for breath. When the uncontrollable waves of gratification finally calmed he lay there, shocked and barely able to move. It was concern for Stiles that got him moving. He rolled over to be confronted with Stiles’ erect cock and then it was just a matter of satisfying him. No other thought mattered. He shifted until he could get to him and lapped at his member while Stiles moaned softly in bliss. He got the younger man’s dick down his throat and swallowed hungrily as Stiles shook in pleasure, grasping at Derek’s head. He nuzzled his balls and gripped his ass tightly until Stiles’ cream rolled down his throat. Then he leaned back and rolled onto his back with a happy sigh.

“Please tell me you didn’t do that to Deaton?” Derek panted.

“No, a dog.”

“Creepy.”

“It was sick. It didn’t react like that. Deaton told me what it would do if I used it on a healthy werewolf. Worked better than I thought.”

“You are going to be an _amazing_ emissary,” Derek told him.

“And you’re going to be an amazing mate to the amazing emissary,” Stiles told him.  

Derek grinned up at the ceiling, “And they all lived happily ever after.”


End file.
